In Between
by WinterStorrm
Summary: When Harry and Draco are forced to work together on a project, one of them has a hidden agenda.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** In Between  
><strong>Rating:<strong> R  
><strong>Pairings: <strong>Harry/Draco  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> 33k (in 5/6 parts)  
><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>Written for HD Holidays as a gift for Frayach who wanted and old fashioned HBP AU.  
>Thank you singlemomsummer for the beta work. Story is complete and am posting in chapters to break it up.<br>**Disclaimer: **All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> The Dark Lord gives Draco an impossible mission: befriend Harry Potter or face the consequences.

**:o:o:o:**

Sometimes Harry felt as though his default setting was 'lonely' and today felt like his worst day yet.

He was consigned to his bedroom again, this time as punishment for not cutting the lawn before it began to rain, but he knew that if it hadn't been that it would have been something else, some other excuse. He wondered how he was expected to find the time for mowing lawns with all of his other chores, but he knew that there was no answer to that, that it was expected that he would fail. He wasn't lucky enough to be in possession of a time-turner, nor was he a trained Weather-Wizard and in possession of the ability to predict oncoming weather fronts.

Now it was raining like it might never stop. The ground outside was saturated as the sky was darkening with the early evening gloom of a stormy summer's evening. Not that it particularly mattered to Harry what it was like outside at the moment; it wasn't as though he had somewhere else to be today or for any other day for the rest of the summer. Staring out of his bedroom window into the garden below was the best entertainment on offer to him at this moment in time and quite probably until he returned to school in September.

Downstairs he could hear the Dursleys, their plates and cutlery clattering noisily as they ate their evening meal of roast chicken and summer vegetables that Harry had cooked for them and served up before being banished up to his bedroom with some chicken scraps and a slice of none too fresh bread and butter that had filled a hole, but went nowhere near satisfaction.

Still, with his loving family busy filling their faces downstairs, Harry had been able to enjoy a much needed shower, albeit a quick one, before Uncle Vernon realised what Harry was doing; normally he was only allowed a shower every three or four days and he'd had one yesterday. He'd stealthily returned to his room with a tiny towel just about secured around his narrow waist, the only towel he was allowed to use, and leant against the window frame to stare longingly outside.

Harry knew he could stand there in the in the dark at the window all night, but it was clear that there was nothing on its way to him, no owls, no rescue…no anything.

_Happy sixteenth birthday, Harry Potter._

He was all by himself on his birthday, as usual. Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy sodding birthday. What a bloody joke; nothing had really changed since his childhood. He reached out to pull the curtains closed so he could retire to his threadbare bed when a light flickering to life in the house over the back caught his eye and he froze in anticipation, dropping his hand to his side as he watched a shirtless man walk into the bedroom that mirrored his own, walk to a desk chair in front of the window and collapse onto it, running his hand through tousled blond hair.

The man was older than Harry, about twenty he had estimated, tall and lean with the muscles of a runner. He frowned, closed his eyes, and with a slight tip of his head, he moved his hands to his waistband, twisted a button and yanked down the zip on his jeans, allowing Harry a view of his prick as it sprang free. It was long, red and – Harry winced at the realisation – it looked delicious. He'd seen him walking around in his room without his shirt before, but _this_, this was a first.

Harry decided that perhaps his birthday wasn't a total wash-out after all. His neighbour probably couldn't see him as he was stood in the dark so Harry shimmied his hips and the flimsy towel covering his own cock fell to the floor. He had been pleasantly aware of it happening, but it was still almost a surprise to find that he was as hard as he actually was.

Neighbour guy wrapped a tanned hand around his own length and began to stroke; Harry mirrored him, unable to tear his eyes off the other man's cock as it appeared and disappeared into his fist as he pumped himself slowly, head tipped back, the corner of his mouth trapped between his teeth.

Harry didn't take long, his orgasm building in the soles of his feet and spreading through the rest of his body to take over every one of his nerve endings as he exploded into his hand, beating the man he was watching to it by a couple of strokes. Harry milked himself dry, mesmerised by the expression on the face of the man as he came, eyes closed, his hips bucking up off the chair as his orgasm hit him.

When his eyes flew open and he seemed to look straight at Harry, Harry gasped and with speed he didn't know he could possess after such an intense orgasm, he dragged his curtains shut and collapsed back onto his bed, his breathing ragged.

He'd been trying to deny this for the past couple of years, this need to look at other men, the desire to touch them as he knew his schoolmates wanted to touch girls. Harry didn't _want_ to be gay. He wanted for something in his life to be 'normal'. Was that too much to ask? After everything that had happened to him in his sixteen years, why couldn't this one thing, this one _extremely important_ thing, be the one thing he didn't have to worry about any more than any average teenage boy, be he a Wizard or a Muggle?

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Could this just be a phase? What just happened was nothing more than his loneliness and needing_something_ on his birthday – some human contact with someone who didn't hate him. That was all it was, all it could be. He couldn't like blokes like that. He wanted to be straight, normal, and if he lived long enough – something that was always a question mark given his history – he was going to marry a nice witch, settle down and have a family. It was all he'd ever wanted. A warm and loving family who loved _him_, not the Boy Who Lived, but _Harry Potter_; because of who he was, not because of his scar and his name.

"Boy!" Uncle Vernon's voice broke him out of the semi-trance he had slipped into. "Get down here you good for nothing lump! The washing up needs doing, and-"

Harry groaned and rolled off the bed, and for the first time in forever, was glad of the distraction the Durlsey's chores offered. Anything was better than facing the truth.

**:o:o:o:**

"It won't work. Potter hates me, he always has," Draco argued, sick with nerves, his voice rising slightly, but his words might as well have been directed at the moon for all the impact he was making.

"You will befriend Harry Potter, Draco," the Dark Lord hissed. He pointed a bony hand in the direction of Draco's mother who glanced nervously around her, at the assembly of Death Eaters and swallowed thickly. Voldemort crooked a finger and she immediately gathered herself with a pale smile and the Black poise and walked over to stand beside him. Voldemort, his reptilian eyes sliding sideways towards Narcissa said, "Do not fail me on this. I warn you, the consequences will be…unpleasant."

The implication was clear. Draco had to do what he was instructed or his mother would pay the price. He glanced at her now, their gazes meeting, identical fear in both sets of eyes. She nodded at him, an almost imperceptible inclination of her head that many would miss had they not been looking for it.

"I will do as you ask as best I can, My Lord," he replied, bowing accordingly. "If I am to do so, however, might I be allowed to know why?"

Several of the Death Eaters gasped at Draco's audacity, and Draco immediately regretted his impulsive words. Would he never learn the time and the place for certain…matters? His father would be ashamed if he were here, which of course he wasn't, hence the reason Draco was making promises he was certain he wouldn't be able to keep.

He was surprised when Voldemort laughed; a skin crawlingly unpleasant low chuckle that set all the hairs on the back of Draco's neck to attention. "No, Draco, you may not be allowed to know why. You will wait for my command. I am a reasonable man; I do not expect you to have the boy's trust immediately. I will give you this advice: do not allow yourself to become fond of the boy – it would be unfortunate to see you grieving for him when he meets his death at my hand."

Draco almost snorted at the concept, even as the nausea rose in his throat at the inevitable failure of this ridiculous mission. Become _fond_ of Potter? Even if he did consider Potter's arse to be one of the wonders of the magical world, he'd sooner dive headfirst into a vat of Bubotuber Pus than have to actually spend any time with him. Not that he even believed that he could succeed in making friends with the wanker. Potter would be too busy basking in the admiration of his many groupies to find a moment for Draco. Besides, he'd already failed spectacularly at befriending him five years ago when his eleven year old self had offered Potter his hand, back when he'd genuinely wanted to be friends with him and Potter hadn't even known anything about him. Potter had still chosen Weasley over him; Draco was under no illusions that he would accept any sort of overture of friendship now, not after everything that had happened in the years since then.

Draco caught himself in his thoughts and realising everyone was staring expectantly at him he bowed again and stepped over to stand back next to Crabbe and Goyle, determinedly not looking at them, knowing that had they been anywhere else and Draco had told them about what he had to do then they would have been on the floor shaking with laughter. Neither one of them was laughing now, and Draco suspected that after today they never would again, not with him.

The meeting continued for some minutes, but Draco had tuned out, his mind reeling from what he had been asked to do. _Befriend Potter_. The concept was ridiculous, not to mention impossible!

Draco glanced at his mother again, to find her watching him with obvious concern. He forced a small smile, silently cursing his father for being in Azkaban and leaving them both alone and unprotected in the monster's lair like this.

_Make friends with Harry Potter_. He felt a un-Malfoy-like hysterical giggle trying to fight its way free from his throat.

He was fucked.

**:o:o:o:**

Harry loved sitting in the Muggle greasy spoon café at the station. He could sit there for hours, watching the trains come and go, Muggles bustling past, getting on with their lives, unaffected by an impending magical war, blissfully oblivious to what was coming. They were so lucky and they didn't even know it.

The young man who worked behind the counter was almost beautiful with huge blue eyes and a genuine smile for all of his customers. Harry smiled back at him when he brought him his third coffee, and asked him what time he finished. "Ten," he answered, brushing a lock of dark blond hair out of his eyes. "Would you like to…go for a walk?" And there it was; as it had been since the evening of Harry's birthday when they had first set eyes on one another. When Harry had been able to get away from the Dursleys he'd found find respite here – once he'd got past his embarrassment regarding what had happened that day - with his new…friend.

Harry nodded, smiling at him, and drinking in Seth's beaming grin. Seth returned to work and Harry dug the Prophet out of his rucksack and stared down at the picture on the front page for the umpteenth time that day. Someone had snapped Malfoy and his mother in Diagon Alley yesterday, and the article was speculating on Lucius Malfoy's internment in Azkaban following the 'incident' in the Department of Mysteries.

Harry hoped the older Malfoy was suffering horribly for his crime; Sirius was _dead_ thanks to him and his Death Eater pals. Harry would never see him again._Never_. The one person who had been Harry's own family… Yes. he knew the Weasleys loved him but no one loved him and took away that empty lonely feeling like Sirius had.

The pale face of Draco Malfoy stared out of the photograph at him; the worry on both his and his mother's faces clear to see. _Good_, Harry thought maliciously. He hoped they were both utterly wretched. Lucius was still alive and cunning enough to be out of that prison before long; frankly Harry didn't see what they had to be so anxious about – well, apart from the whole dancing to the tune of a mad man thing – but that was entirely their own stupid fault and as far as Harry was concerned, he hoped they got everything they deserved.

When ten o'clock rolled around Seth waited for Harry at the door, and they walked hand in hand out of the station and towards the nearby park. Seth told him funny stories about annoying customers and how his uni dissertation was going to be the end of him. Harry loved to listen; Seth's life was so carefree.

When Seth pushed Harry back against a tree near the park gates and kissed him, his tongue pressing for entry into his mouth, which Harry allowed, Harry wished – not for the first time – that he didn't have to go back to school, but – there was just _something_ not right about this thing with Seth, something that niggled, yet before he had chance to explore further there was a loud pop to his right, and in shocked recognition, Harry pulled out of the kiss and gaped when he saw Professor Dumbledore standing beneath the street light on the opposite side of the road, his long blue robes billowing in the breeze.

"What's wrong?" Seth asked, turning to look over his shoulder in the direction of Harry's stare. "What are you looking at?"

Dumbledore waved. Seth turned back to Harry with a puzzled expression. Clearly he could not see the old man. Well, bloody great.

"Look – er – I have to go. I forgot I need to be somewhere." Harry couldn't ignore the summons of his mentor. "I'll see you soon though, yeah?"

Seth spluttered, "What-?" but Harry had kissed his forehead and was heading across the road to Dumbledore, who had started walking towards an alleyway, disappearing into it. Harry followed, Seth already forgotten.

"Harry, my boy, so terribly sorry for the dreadful timing," Dumbledore greeted, not looking sorry at all. "He really is truly beautiful, you are a lucky boy."

Harry rolled his eyes, he didn't feel very lucky although being caught snogging a bloke by his headmaster was not as mortifying as Harry might have thought it would be. "Well, he probably won't talk to me again after I've just run out on him like this." He supposed he should be a lot more bothered about that than he was, but other than feeling a little guilty for leaving him standing there staring after him, he didn't feel too much regret that he had possibly just burnt his bridges; and just like that lay the answer to the niggle.

"I am in need of your help, Harry," Dumbledore said, and any lingering thoughts of pretty Muggle boyfriends exited Harry's head. Dumbledore held out his arm, "Will you join me?"

Harry took hold and experienced his first Side-Along. Nausea pulsed through him when they reappeared on the village green of a picture postcard Muggle village and then as quickly as the sickness had arrived it was gone.

"Why are we here?" It was eerily quiet; there was not a single person to be seen despite the balmy late summer evening and the brightness of the moonlight.

"There's someone I want you to meet," Dumbledore told him and led Harry towards the gate of an old Georgian townhouse. "I only ask that you follow my cue and save any questions until we leave."

**::**

Harry was pleased when Dumbledore Apparated him to the Burrow after his introduction to the slimy Professor Slughorn, a man who had been instantly star struck by Harry from the moment he'd heard his name and seen the famous scar with his own eyes. He had delighted in showing Harry his collection of photographs of famous ex-students to which Harry had made the appropriate noises of approval and kept his opinions to himself.

"Dumbledore says he wants me to let Slughorn 'collect' me," he told Ron and Hermione once the excitement of his arrival had died down and Molly and Ginny had retired to their own quarters leaving him alone with his two best friends. The three of them sat on the floor in Ron's room with crossed legs and happy smiles from the joy of being together again. "He hasn't told me why yet, but when is he ever anything other than cryptic?" Dumbledore operated on a pure 'need to know' basis, and Harry had no doubt that he would find out eventually why Dumbledore wanted him to ingratiate himself into Slughorn's good graces.

"I'm sorry I missed your birthday, Harry," Hermione said when they had settled into quiet contemplation. She rummaged into her bag and pulled out a shiny gift-wrapped present and handed it to Harry. "It's not much but-"

Harry took it, giving it a squeeze. He didn't get many presents. "Thanks, Hermione, I-" The gift was hard and unyielding. He laughed. "It's a book isn't it?"

Hermione bristled. "You can never have too many books, Harry!"

Harry grinned, tearing at the paper and saying, "No, I don't suppose you can." He leant forward and kissed her cheek. "Now, have I missed anything?" He glanced down at the book and found 'Potions for Idiots'. He snorted, trying to suppress a laugh.

"Nothing much, I only got here the day before yesterday myself, I was in Italy with my parents before that," Hermione said, shooting Harry a disapproving look at his reaction to the book. "Other than Ron and I saw Malfoy yesterday in Flourish and Blotts and we overheard-"

"We overheard his Mum consoling him on being rejected!" Ron interrupted, conspiring about Malfoy being one of his favourite topics. "It was brilliant! The ferret must have a tried it on with someone. I'd love to know who! I tried to listen for more but they left and I didn't see where they went."

Harry sighed. This was hardly information that would lead to Voldemort's downfall. Malfoy trying to get into some prissy pureblood girl's knickers was amusing but it wouldn't win the war. He did wonder who it might be though…

"It made Ron's day- He forgot to buy the books he went in to buy," Hermione interjected.

Ron ignored her, launching into talking about the Cannon's latest victory, and from there they moved on to discuss their summer antics, or in Harry's case, lack thereof. He did not tell them about Seth. He wasn't ready for the hugeness of that conversation and just wanted this year to be normal, or as least as normal as it could be for someone whose name was Harry Potter.

**:o:o:o:**

Draco watched the Golden Gits arrive from his hiding place behind the Muggle stationery cubicle at King's Cross station. He sidled up behind a fat Muggle who had planted himself in the middle of the concourse to talk into a black plastic contraption and watched as Granger appeared to be lecturing Potter and Weasley about something. The expression on their faces was that of resigned horror.

The she-weasel circled at a distance, her huge blue eyes trained on Potter like a lovesick puppy. Not that Potter even noticed as he was now rummaging frantically through a ratty looking backpack with a frown. None of them saw Draco.

He continued in his observations of Potter, as it was him that he had to concentrate his efforts on, though undoubtedly he'd have to try to be pleasant to the other two as well. Damn it all to Salazar, as if being nice to Potter wasn't going to be challenge enough!

He noted that Potter looked skinnier than he had been at the end of fifth year, as he always did at the start of a new year and- Dammit, why would he even_know_ that? Anyway, despite that predictable downturn in Potter's physical appearance Draco noticed that his choice of clothing had markedly improved – he was wearing slim fitting Muggle jeans that hugged that still fine arse and some of those white-soled trainers that Muggles favoured and he looked…passable, even if he did look as if he hadn't slept in a month.

How could he still look so gorgeous? It wasn't fair that he should be Harry Potter and so attractive with it. He should be hideous with that scar, but no, hideous was the last word Draco would use to describe Potter – unless he applied it to his personality.

Despite his train of thought, Draco's lips quirked into a smirk at the evidence that Potter wasn't sleeping. It served the bastard right. It was partly down to him, after all, that his father was in Azkaban and Draco was in this mess in the first place. That didn't stop him from hating Lucius as well, not at all. His father was the one who instigated their worship of Voldemort – his mother loved Lucius too much to argue with his decisions, and Draco, well, he had come to his senses too late and now he bore the mark as well. It had been forced upon him the first day of the school holidays.

The pain had almost been the end of him.

He was now Draco Malfoy, reluctant Death Eater. He hadn't wanted the mark, he still didn't. He didn't believe in Voldemort's world view – what he _had_believed in, until recently, was his father. Now he believed in survival, for himself and mostly for his mother. He didn't believe in Voldemort, yet he had no choice other than to follow his wishes.

He had to make friends with Harry Potter. He had to get under his skin and make the idiot trust him and if that meant laughing at his jokes and being nice to gingers then he'd do it.

As he watched Potter and his entourage move towards the platform, Draco's adrenaline kicked in when Potter turned, catching his eye – green on grey – and Draco twisted his lips into a half smile, forcing it out of the depths of his soul. Potter's eyes narrowed and he turned away; he did not return the smile. Draco exhaled and closed his eyes; Merlin, he was going to have to try harder than that if he was going to win Potter's friendship and trust _ever_ let alone in the Dark Lord's twisted timescale, which Draco had gathered to be anytime between now and whenever the Dark Lord summoned him, which was no help at all.

**::**

"So, Draco, what's the strategy?" Pansy bounced on her seat beside him, her voice carrying along the length of the train, despite them managing to secure a private compartment.

Draco was already regretting telling her his mission; it was bad enough that Crabbe and Goyle knew and would be scrutinising his every move. He strongly suspected that they had been instructed to keep an eye on him and report back to the Dark Lord. Thankfully they weren't sleeping in the same dorm this year and had a room of their own; Blaise had had his mother write and complain about their combined snoring affecting her son's sleep. Draco had mocked Blaise for it at the time, but now he was more than glad of it.

Of course, Pansy had told Blaise, assuming that this was a group concern as they were a close-knit trio – but - Blaise had immediately made it clear that he did not approve. Draco had thought it obvious that Blaise seemed to have a crush on the boy wonder, and was amazed that this had passed Pansy by. She normally had a sharp eye and hated being out of the loop.

"Keep your voice down," he hissed, yanking the compartment door shut with a crack. "If it's not bad enough that you told Blaise, you don't need to tell the whole school!"

"Sorry," Pansy sighed, actually managing to look as though she meant it. "I just – it's going to be fascinating, like a social experiment. 'How to turn your enemy into your best friend'."

Not many people knew that Pansy was fascinated by Muggle sociology and psychology and was hoping to study it at a Muggle university with the view to applying it to Wizarding life. Her parents had no idea, they were good little Death Eaters, and one did not mention the word 'Muggle' in the Parkinson house unless it was to be disparaging about them.

"Great, Pans, I'm so pleased that my suffering is going to be useful research for you," Draco grumbled, watching Blaise from the corner of his eye, wondering how to save the situation.

At least Pansy had the grace to flush when she said, "Well, I _did_ plan on keeping notes for future reference." She quickly added, "Don't forget I've got those Muggle books on how to win friends and influence people. I haven't read them yet but…"

Draco supposed he did need all the help he could get.

"I think you're crazy," Blaise offered, folding his arms across his chest and staring out of the window at the blurred scenery beyond. "This is a new low even for you, Draco. I don't care what your reasons are, Harry-"

"If I didn't know better," Pansy cooed, cutting Blaise off. "I'd swear that Blaise wants to tap Potter." Alright, she was not as out of the loop as Draco had assumed.

Blaise's jaw tightened and he continued to stare out the window.

"Just don't expect any help from me-" Blaise continued firmly. "I've got to know Harry a little – he was my Herbology partner last year, remember? I don't think he's the attention whore you believe him to be – and anyway since when do you bow down to that psychopath? You always said-"

Draco turned to Pansy and gave her a pointed look. "When did you tell him about this?"

Pansy bit her lip and said, "Probably about ten minutes before you arrived." She looked down at her painted red nails and looked away as Draco pointed his wand at the back of Blaise's head.

"Obliviate." The tingle of guilt that washed through Draco wasn't as strong as the relief. The less people that knew about this mission the better; this was his mother's life a stake here, Draco couldn't afford the risk.

Blaise startled and turned to face them, his eyes dazed. "Did I fall asleep?" he asked, befuddled.

"Yes you did, you party animal," Pansy teased, moving to sit by Blaise and mouthing "Sorry," at Draco as she passed.

Draco slumped back in his seat and sighed. Aunt Bella might be a nutter, but she knew how to teach those memory charms.

**:o:o:o:**


	2. Chapter 2

**:o:o:o:**

"I don't see why Muggle Studies is compulsory," Harry complained to Hermione out of the side of his mouth as Professor Burbage droned on about unifying those who were Muggle born and raised with those who had had little contact with Muggles. His only reply was a glare and a hissed "shhhh" as Hermione rapidly scribbled her notes.

Harry glanced at Ron, hoping for some silent moral support, but Ron seemed to be listening closely to the professor as well. Harry sighed and tuned back in to the listen just as a loud gasp filled the room and everyone turned to stare at him. It wasn't as though Harry wasn't used to being stared at, but-

Professor Burbage ignored the commotion and was reeling off names, "…Pansy Parkinson and Seamus Finnegan, Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini…"

Harry, confused and now wishing he had paid attention, raised a questioning eyebrow at Hermione who shook her head slightly and leant into whisper in his ear, "You got paired with Malfoy."

Something akin to dread washed over Harry. No wonder everyone had been staring at him, no doubt they were waiting for his reaction – how very disappointed his classmates must be at the lack of explosion. Automatically, his gaze sought out Malfoy who was on the other side of the classroom one row in front of him. Malfoy was staring right at him with an unusually blank expression. When their eyes met, Malfoy nodded and turned away. Harry's narrowed his eyes. _He_ hadn't heard Burbage announce them as partners, but Malfoy clearly had – why wasn't he acting like his usual spoilt self and demanding to be paired with someone else?

"Mate, that's not on," Ron spat furiously as Professor Burbage instructed them to move to sit with their new partners. "There's no way she's in her right mind saddling you with the ferret! I'm gonna say something-"

"Ron, no – leave it," Harry said firmly. "If he's not complaining about it then I'm not either." Harry picked up his untouched parchment and quill, grabbed his bag and moved over to sit by Malfoy as it was clear that Malfoy had no intention of coming to him. He dropped his bag on the floor beside the desk and slid into his chair beside his nemesis and braced himself for a caustic remark, glancing at Malfoy in surprise when after a long thirty seconds there was nothing. Malfoy was focussing on making notes; his pale blond head dipped low over his parchment.

"…pairs please make a start on your lists. I don't expect you to have completed these by the end of today's class, but I do expect you to meet with your partner and have a completed list before the next week. Is everyone clear on what is expected of them?"

This would have been the point Harry raised his hand and said that no, he wasn't clear, in fact, he didn't have a clue what was going on, so he naturally kept his mouth closed and side-eyed the several inches of parchment that Malfoy had covered in his small, neat, handwriting.

When no one else raised their hand either, Professor Burbage steepled her fingers and said, "Very well, off you go. I look forward to hearing what you come up with in the next class." She moved behind her desk and sat down, pulling some paperwork towards her. Harry stared at her long fake Muggle fingernails and waited for Malfoy to speak first.

"You didn't listen to any of that did you, Potter?" Malfoy said, finally, after an endless abyss of silence between the two of them. "Why am I not surprised?" The tone of his voice wasn't sarcastic or snide, in fact, if Harry didn't know better – this was _Malfoy_ after all – he would have said that Malfoy was gently_teasing_ him.

"Sorry, Malfoy, much as it pains me to admit it, you're right for once. Are you going to fill me in?" Harry shifted in his seat slightly so he could meet Malfoy's eyes, and blow him if the expression in his eyes wasn't as teasing as his tone of voice. He was tempted to ask if this was a joke or maybe this was someone Polyjuiced as Malfoy. Or perhaps he was still upstairs asleep and this was just a horribly surreal nightmare.

No, this wasn't a nightmare, this was real and it was painful how badly he wanted to scream at Malfoy about his father's part in Sirius' death – his bloody crazy_aunt's_ part! Malfoy and his family were poison and Harry would do well to never lose sight of that.

"We've got to work as a pair-" Malfoy began amiably.

"I gathered that much," Harry snapped.

Malfoy ignored him and continued, "We have to produce a list of Muggle activities – that's where you come in – and each week of this term, where possible, we're going to do one of them – we then have to produce a report on how the activity went, things like what we learned, and how it felt to do things for the first time, or for you, how it felt to do something with someone who has never experienced the Muggle world. I think it's meant to unify."

"Right," Harry said, dipping his head to avoid Malfoy's eyes as his thoughts slid to his Muggle life and how most of it had been spent locked away in a cupboard, and _he_ hadn't experienced anything much that wouldn't be his own first time as well. He was damned if he was letting Malfoy, of all people, know any of this. "So, that's how many things we need to come up with?"

"Thirteen."

"Unlucky," Harry replied coldly and bit his lip to prevent himself from screaming. Thirteen equated to a _lot_ of time spent in Malfoy's company than he would ever, ever want to by choice. He wasn't sure that this wouldn't end in a bloodbath, and perhaps he should let Ron have his say to Professor Burbage after all. Yet- If Malfoy was going to go along with this then Harry he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being the one to kick up a fuss. Malfoy was even being friendly at this stage – which Harry found incredibly suspicious – but he couldn't deny it was intriguing. However, he didn't feel inclined to return the favour seeing as it was taking all of his current strength not to grab a handful of that gleaming blond hair and bang Malfoy's pretty face into the desk.

Harry was distracted from his chain of thought – thankfully - because where the hell had _pretty_ come from? - by Pansy Parkinson's high pitched indignant cry of, "No – I have _never_ thought of going to a Muggle strip club!" Swiftly followed by Seamus belly laughing so hard he had to hold clutch the edge of the desk to prevent himself from falling off his chair. This in turn caused a chain reaction around the classroom, and within seconds most of the class was laughing along, other than Pansy who had maintained a disgusted sneer and Malfoy who was glaring at Harry as though he had suggested the venture to _him_. The friendly façade had vanished.

Burbage stood and clapped her hands, "Now, now class – whilst I expected nothing less from Mr Finnegan-" Her lips twitched. "-the rest of you have no excuse. This is a serious assignment. That said, attending a Muggle strip-club may well be a valid request were Mr Finnegan and Miss Parkinson over the age of eighteen which is the age you need to be to enter such an establishment. All of you need to bear in mind the Muggle age restrictions – I'm going to write the restrictions up on the board for you to copy down. Once you have noted them down, you may all leave, but remember I want your completed lists by next week."

She waved her wand and text started to appear on the board. Malfoy immediately began to note down the restrictions. Harry decided he wouldn't bother and chose to watch Malfoy's quill flying across his parchment instead. His fingers were long and as pale as the rest of him. Harry was amazed how he managed avoid getting ink all over his fingers as Harry did when he wrote that fast.

"Your note taking leaves something to be desired, Potter," Malfoy observed, causing Harry to jump; he hadn't realised Malfoy had stopped writing even though his eyes were still fixed on his fingers. "We'll need to work on this list before next week. Are you free to meet me in the library on Thursday night?"

Harry had no other plans, well, other than playing Exploding Snap with Ron in the common room, but he didn't want Malfoy to know that; this was going to happen on his terms, not Malfoy's. "I'm busy on Thursday night. I can fit you in on Saturday afternoon? I'd rather get it over in half an hour if that's alright with you; neither of us wants to spend more together than we have to."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed slightly but he nodded and said, "Three o'clock." He gathered his things and without another word, left the room, Pansy and Blaise on his heels. Blaise turned and grinned at Harry. Harry smiled back; Blaise was a rare breed of Slytherin – as in that Harry _liked_ him.

**:o:o:o:**

Draco waited for Blaise's attention to be distracted by Theo Nott's offer of playing chess before nodding at Pansy, leaving the common room and waiting patiently outside in the corridor for her to follow before the two of them slipped into a nearby alcove and Draco cast a Muffliato just in case anyone was lurking outside.

Pansy spoke first, excitedly, "So how'd it go? The two of you didn't have a fight, which is a positive sign."

"True, but he's suspicious for that very reason." Draco rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and slumped back against the wall. "He hates me, Pans – how the hell am I going to turn this around?"

Pansy sighed. "Draco, I'm your best friend, you know that – and perhaps I'm a little biased, but I happen to think that you're some kind of wonderful. I'll tell you now that I'm doing this for you, not for the Dark Lord – _you_. I'm on Draco Malfoy's side, and I wish that you weren't stuck in this situation – but you are and I'm going to support you every step of the way – I managed to convince Burbage that putting you together with Potter would build a lot of bridges didn't I?" She laid her hand over his and squeezed. "So I think you just need to be _yourself_ with Potter – at least the you that you are when you're not around Potter! Try to forget why you are doing it, because I think if you do that, he'll actually want to be your friend."

Draco dropped his head. "He's turned me down before." He was beginning to annoy himself with how often this thought entered his head and, he'd realised these last few weeks, not just since the Dark Lord gave him the mission. It was something that he'd festered over frequently for years.

"That was years ago." She tipped his chin with her forefinger and forced him to meet her eyes. "He doesn't know what you're really like. You've got to show him – bury the anger and the jealousy and show him the real you!"

"I'm not jealous-"

Pansy pulled her disbelieving face. "_Whatever_ it is, you can't let it hold you back. You have to win him over and fulfil your end of the bargain. It doesn't matter what the Dark Lord wants with him afterwards, that's Potter's look out not yours." Draco searched Pansy's blue eyes and read her genuine belief in him as well as her genuine concern. "You and I both know what side we're on – _ours_."

Draco pressed a chaste kiss to Pansy's lips, wishing not for the first time that he wasn't on the other side of the Quidditch pitch, because together he and Pansy could rule the world. There was no one else as loyal a friend as she was.

For now, if he pulled off this mission and got his Mother out of the Dark Lord's clutches then maybe it would still matter that he carried on the Malfoy line, and maybe Pansy would be the one to do it with, but at the moment, all he could think about was his mother and getting her to safety. Potter was a means to an end. Draco did not like him one bit, but still, he wasn't sure he wanted to be responsible for his demise at the hands of the Dark Lord. Then again, Potter was not his friend, Potter was nothing to him. His mother was everything.

He had no choice.

"You're right, Pans – obviously my winning personality should sway it for me, even if I wasn't this gorgeous and irresistible-" Draco fanned his hand to indicate his person, forcing a smile onto his face just as he forced the humour. "All of that aside, I agree that the only way to go is to be myself because I'll only get lost in my lies if I don't." Even with his good memory he was bound to slip up if he wasn't extremely careful.

"That's the spirit," Pansy said, and pulled him into a hug. "You'll get through this."

Draco only wished he had half as much faith in himself as Pansy had in him.

**:o:o:o:**

"You're so lucky, Harry," Ginny cooed, throwing herself into an armchair opposite the sofa Harry, Hermione and Ron were currently curled up on, pondering Malfoy's oddly friendly behaviour that afternoon.

"How so?" Harry asked.

"Getting paired with Malfoy – I mean, I know he's a Slytherin, but he's so _hot_."

"What – the _ferret_?" Ron snapped, his eyes widening as he stared at his sister as though he'd never seen her before. "Hermione, do you think we should check Gin for curses, because she can't really have just said that Malfoy is hot, could she?"

Malfoy's image flashed into Harry's mind's eye and much to his consternation imaginary Malfoy wasn't sneering, he was smiling as he had earlier, and brushing a lock of platinum out of his grey eyes with long pale fingers. His pink tongue snuck out and licked his pouting lips- _Dear Godric_.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Hermione flushed at Ron's words. "Well, he is easy on the eye – all that pale skin and blond hair – he's so, so-"

"Gorgeous!" Ginny finished. She got to her feet again, heading towards the dorms. "If you get chance, Harry – find out for me what his type is?" She sighed dreamily and floated away, casting a parting smirk in Ron's direction.

"Hermione – you fancy the ferret – really?" Ron asked, his blue eyes shining with rejection. "I thought you would have better taste than that!" He jumped to his feet and backed towards the stairs, his pale skin flushed red. "I'm going to bed."

"Ron – I didn't mean-" Hermione stalled as Ron disappeared up the stairs towards this dorms without even glancing back. "-I didn't mean that I actually_fancied_ him," she finished, turning to Harry for support.

Harry shrugged, desperately trying to evict the image of 'hot' Malfoy from his head. "I know you didn't mean that," he said consolingly. "Unfortunately, Ron doesn't know that he's the one you actually fancy." He raised an eyebrow. There, he'd finally broached the subject.

"I-"

"Don't worry – he won't hear it from me," Harry promised, patting Hermione on the knee and kissing her cheek affectionately.

"Thanks, Harry, but how did you know?"

"Hermione, I spend nearly all of my time with you and Ron together or separately – even I'm not that oblivious!"

"Oh. In that case, you know that Gin only said that about Malfoy to make you jealous?"

Harry had had no idea. The way he felt about Ginny was how he imagined he would feel about a younger sister. Okay, perhaps he was oblivious after all, at least when it came to people fancying _him_.

"Um-"

"I didn't think so," Hermione said, getting to her feet. "You don't think she actually fancies Malfoy after what his father did to her do you? She's got it bad for_you_, Harry – be careful with her."

"Oh," Harry sighed heavily, this was the last thing he'd wanted to hear. "I'm gonna head up now – someone needs to calm Ron down before he's woven this into the Granger-Malfoy wedding!"

Hermione shuddered. "Never say that again."

**::**

That night for the first time Harry afforded Draco Malfoy some real thought – thoughts that did not involve ways to hex him, or get back at him with violence, or quick fire come-backs for Malfoy's taunts – but thoughts to consider that Malfoy was no longer the eleven year old brat he had first met in Madame Malkin's that day five years earlier, that he had grown into a young man – a very attractive one – and it had happened right before Harry's eyes and he hadn't even noticed. Damn Ginny and Hermione for drawing his attention to it, or should that be for forcing him to admit it?

He rolled onto his front and squeezed his eyes shut. "You can just go on not noticing," he whispered to himself. He needed a _girlfriend_; he needed to be normal, to forget about Seth and how soft Malfoy's lips looked... Fuck.

He began to mentally list all the girls he knew – Cho was out of the picture, obviously, and so was Ginny, because she was his best mate's sister, even if she was clearly up for it. Romilda, Lavender, Parvati, Hannah… By the time Harry had exhausted the list and realised he wasn't even slightly attracted to any of them, he felt utterly exhausted and fell into a deep sleep.

He dreamt of himself and Malfoy walking a tightrope at the Muggle circus. Harry was half way across when Malfoy pointed out one expensively shod foot and wobbled the rope. Harry fell.

**:o:o:o:**

The rest of the week really dragged for Draco. He just wanted Saturday to arrive and to have it out of the way, but he had to bide his time – it was too soon to be seeking Potter out as he might if they were on better terms. He had to settle for observing him from across the Great Hall and in lessons.

It was interesting to note that Potter spent as much time staring at Draco as Draco did staring at Potter; although he tried to hide it, as did Draco.

Saturday felt like a huge mental barrier in his head, a hurdle to be conquered before he could allow himself to relax even in the slightest. This meeting with Potter was the first step – it had to go well.

He wasn't a fool, he knew that Potter wasn't going to fall at his feet and declare Draco his new best friend in the time it took them to come up with a list of Muggle pastimes. That would never happen, Draco was certain of it, but he didn't need anyone at his feet, he needed Potter to view him as something other than the enemy, as someone he didn't have to avoid…and from there perhaps a friendship would build. It had to; this was life or death.

His mother's life in exchange for Potter's death? Draco closed his eyes tight and tried not to think of that detail.

When Potter was late, Draco almost bit his lip so he wouldn't make a snide comment as was his instinct to do. Snide and sarcastic were his ingrained reactions to Potter and he had been telling himself that he couldn't do that anymore. But- _be yourself_. Snide and sarcastic was Draco Malfoy to a certain degree, although it wasn't all he was – cutting that out completely would be unnatural and Potter would be suspicious. If Potter hadn't chosen Weasley over him five years ago he would already know the real Draco. 'But he did chose him over you,' Draco reminded himself as he watched Potter walk uncertainly towards him, his scruffy rucksack slung over one shoulder in direct contrast with his improved fashion sense.

Draco took that thought and went with it. "Potter," he greeted as amicably as he could muster. "You've certainly smartened up since last year; what happened?" Any clothing would be an improvement on the voluminous Muggle t-shirts Potter had been known to wear in the past.

Potter glanced down at his tight fitting Muggle jeans before meeting Draco's enquiring gaze. He shrugged. "A friend took me shopping over the holidays," he replied. "A Muggle friend." His eyes flashed in challenge and Draco was proud of his own lack of reaction.

"Well, he has great taste," Draco said and was surprised when those words elicited a deep flush from Potter. He filed that away for later. This Muggle friend could be significant. He waited for Potter to settle himself in the chair opposite to his before saying, "Before we get going, there's something I want to say."

Potter narrowed his eyes and nodded. "I'm listening."

Be yourself, be yourself, _be yourself_.

"I'm not going to apologise for anything that has happened between us in the past."

Potter sat back in his chair and folded his arms, laughing wryly. "I never expected that you would, Malfoy. The same goes for me."

"_However_, I think we should try to get along – I didn't want to do this class, but seeing as I'm stuck with it, and with you, then I think we should attempt to get along with one another." Draco hoped he hadn't been too negative, but if Potter was going to believe that Draco was being sincere there could be no other way.

"I didn't want to do this class either," Potter admitted and the truth of the words were reflected in his disdainful expression.

Even though he was feeling like he was nothing but a Lucius clone at the moment as lying and manipulating his way into someone's good graces was a Lucius speciality, Draco said, "I'm not my father."

Potter's eyes flashed. "Are you sure about that?"

Draco ignored the shame the question elicited. He didn't _want_ to be like Lucius, but he was still controlled by the man as he was cleaning up his mess. He was still doing the Dark Lord's bidding because his father had fucked up. _Again._

"I'm not my father," he repeated, staring into Potter's eyes – Merlin, they were glorious – letting the sincerity of those words shine through; and he was sincere in that. Lucius would always be his father, and Draco would always love him on some level, but adore him? Let the man shape his beliefs? Never again.

"I still don't like you, Malfoy, but I'll do my best not to show it." The jade green of those eyes darkened slightly and Draco had to look away or be hypnotised.

"I suppose that will have to do," Draco replied, slightly stung at Potter's words and annoyed with himself for the emotion because – _what the hell_? Since when did he care what Potter thought of him? Alright, so he cared at the moment because he had to care, this was life or death – but he didn't actually _care_.

Potter seemed to consider that the matter was settled because he pulled out a roll of parchment from his bag and said, "So have you given any thought to the Muggle things you want to put on the list?"

"Well, Burbage said that the first few things should be more day-to-day things that Muggles do that Wizards wouldn't. So I thought perhaps – what do they call those box things with moving pictures in that they have in their houses…tellie?"

"Television? You want to watch television?" Potter looked stunned and somewhat relieved. "That's an easy one. I'm sure we could ask the Room of Requirement for one and watch it there."

"Each activity has to last at least three hours," Draco reminded Potter, whose shoulders slumped at his words.

"Three hours of television, that's fine," Potter said. "Shall we make it number one?"

Draco began to write, but had to ask, "How do you spell it?"

Potter spelt it out for him and then asked Draco if he had thought of a second activity. "This is for both of us, Potter. What would you suggest we do?"

"Ride a bicycle in the park," Potter said instantly.

At least Draco knew what a bicycle was even if he'd never been on one. How hard could it be? "I'll make that number two." He wrote it down. "Any others?"

Potter gnawed on his lower lip. "Pantomime?"

"You do realise that pantomimes are Muggle versions of the Christmas Magic Extravaganza don't you?"

"Um-" Potter looked confused. "The what?"

"The Christmas Magic Extravaganza," Draco repeated. "At The Merlin Theatre? It's been running every year for over three hundred years, surely you've heard of it?" It was clear from the expression on Potter's face that he had not.

"Where's the Merlin Theatre?"

Draco felt a twinge of irritation. How could Potter be so incredibly clueless? "It's in Covent Garden-"

"I've never been to Covent Garden," Potter said, his expression guarded. "Do you want to put pantomime on the list?"

Draco had heard that pantomimes were pretty terrible, but before Potter had retreated into himself it had been clear to Draco that he wanted to go to one. Typical, uncouth Potter. "They're only on at Christmas so we won't be able to fit it in I don't think. We could go to another show if you can think of one."

Potter nodded, disappointment clear in his expression. Draco wrote 'see a show' down under number ten, feeling like he'd actually just told Potter that Santa Claus wasn't real. What was that? Guilt? Probably best not to dwell on that.

"It's your turn," Potter said, his eyes trained on Draco's hands as he scribbled. Draco put his quill down and curled his fingers into his palms.

"Rollercoasters," Draco said. "Blaise told me he went to a Muggle theme park when he was younger – his mother was dating a rich Muggle – anyway, it sounds like fun." He looked expectantly at Potter and was pleased when his face lit up before he tried to hide it.

"Well, there's Alton Towers – that's the biggest theme park in the country, or to Blackpool Pleasure Beach, or maybe Drayton Manor…"

Draco added 'theme park' onto the list and privately congratulated himself on this genius idea of getting himself paired with Potter for this task. They were going to do fun things together, and people bonded over shared experiences like that, didn't they? Draco was even quite excited about some of the things they might be doing. He had to concede that Muggles were quite clever in many ways; they had to be to compensate for not having any magic.

They spent another hour hammering out Muggle things to do together, far longer than Potter's specified half hour, something which Draco kept to himself rather than point out and risk Potter leaving early. When they parted ways afterwards Draco was surprised to find that spending the time with Potter, even with his guard up, wasn't actually as bad as he had anticipated and apart from a disagreement about Circuses – Potter had determinedly refused that suggestion - they hadn't even raised their voices. He felt a spark of hope that this really could work; his mother would be safe.

**:o:o:o:**

"He said he wanted the two of you to get on?" Ron's expression was a wonderful combination of fascination and disgust. "I hope you told him to stick it where the sun don't shine!"

"Ron, it can't hurt if Harry becomes friendly with Malfoy – I mean, obviously not _friends_ but on better terms, because it might prove useful, he might let something slip." Hermione shot Ron a look that would have withered anyone else, but flew right over Ron's head.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair, twisting to curl his legs over the arm rest, cursing Ron's choice of words and the thought that Malfoy might stick something where the sun didn't shine… He began to mentally list all the single girls again; surely there was _one_ he could consider?

"…don't you think so, Harry?"

"Hmmm?" Harry snapped out if his mental listing and focussed in on Hermione. "Sorry, I missed that, what did you say?"

"Never mind," Hermione huffed, slamming her book closed and getting to her feet. "I'm going to the library; I'll see you both later."

Harry and Ron watched her retreat with matching furrowed brows. "What was that all about?" Harry asked as the portrait slammed shut behind Hermione.

Ron shrugged. "I said that I'd put money on Malfoy already having the mark and Hermione was defending him. The fucking wanker."

Harry went cold. _Did_ Malfoy have the mark? Why hadn't he considered it as a possibility sooner?

Ron stared at the closed portrait for a moment before the confusion cleared and he said, "Do you think I've got a chance with Lavender?"

Harry groaned and closed his eyes.

**::**

An hour later, when Ron had sidled over to Lavender to test the water, despite Harry's attempts to persuade him otherwise, Harry headed to the library to track down Hermione.

When he got there, Harry couldn't see Hermione anywhere. He headed towards the restricted section on a hunch, but instead of Hermione he found Pansy and Malfoy. He almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to stop walking forwards. His muttered, "Dammit," drew the attention of both the Slytherins.

"Potter, are you following me?" Malfoy asked in a light teasing tone that once again threw Harry into confusion. This time last year and Malfoy would have torn a strip off him for daring to cross into space that came within fifty feet of his person and now he was being friendly? This 'truce' was so disconcerting.

"As if he'd want to follow _you_, Draco," Pansy said, looking Harry up and down slowly and breaking into a seductive smile. "He's obviously looking for _me_, right, Harry?" She winked at him and Harry felt the start of a blush. What the hell was wrong with him lately? He was blushing like a virgin on his wedding night and always in the presence of sodding Malfoy.

"Actually, I was looking for Hermione," Harry blurted, backing slowly towards his escape route. "I'll, er, see you later – Malfoy, Parkinson." He turned and fled.

He heard Pansy say, "What's got his knickers in a twist?"

And Draco's exasperated reply, "You gave him _the look_ didn't you?"

Harry paused; out of sight but still able to hear them. Pansy's reply was, "Merlin, Draco, he's fucking fit these days. When did that happen? And of course I gave him _the look_ – I wouldn't say no to a ride on his broomstick before-"

Harry shuddered and fled, not wanting to hear the rest of that sentence. He mentally struck Pansy off the potential girlfriend list, not that she was ever really on it but- The girl would eat him for breakfast. He hurried back to the common room and forgot all about his search for Hermione.

**::**


	3. Chapter 3

**::**

"When do you want to meet up to do the first thing on the list?" Harry asked Malfoy as they packed away their things at the end of Muggle studies. Their list of activities had been approved by Professor Burbage, however, all of the activities that would take them out of the school required a parental signature which meant that Harry would have to somehow go and see Uncle Vernon, and sooner rather than later. That was something that he wasn't looking forward to. He was the only person who would have such a problem, everyone else's parents, even the Muggle borns, could be contacted via owl or traditional Muggle mail. Harry knew that if he wrote to Vernon he'd be waiting until he was forty-five for a reply.

They were supposed to do one activity every week and if they wanted to use their spare weekend time then that was preferred as class time was spent discussing various reactions to the activities.

"We're watching television first," Malfoy said. "How about this Saturday night?"

Harry considered pretending he was busy again, but decided against it in favour of getting it over with. "That works for me," he said. "Room of Requirement at half past seven?" They had already discussed that all they needed to do was go to the room and ask it for a working television set and they should get one.

"What are we going to watch on it?" Malfoy asked, and Harry's heart sank. He'd never been allowed to watch the Dursley's television. He'd seen the lots of clips from when he was cooking their dinner, or when he'd been doing his chores when they were watching it, but he'd never been allowed to sit down and watch so he didn't have any idea what to suggest.

"I never really watched television with my family," he evaded carefully. "I'll ask Hermione later for some popular Muggle shows."

"Pansy said something about operas, only there's no singing – what are they?" Malfoy looked expectantly at Harry who couldn't help but laugh at the genuine confusion on his face. He hated that it was almost endearing. He did not want to find Malfoy _endearing_.

"I think she means soap operas. They're sort of on-going programmes about the lives of Muggles living supposedly normal lives. My aunt used to watch a lot of them. Do you want me to ask Hermione which one is best?"

Malfoy pulled a face. "Muggles living normal lives? Sounds terribly tedious."

**:o:o:o:**

Draco stared at the television screen, his eyes wide and his mouth agog. Beside him, as far at the other end of the sofa as he could get, Potter was staring at the screen as rapt as he was.

It was amazing that _Muggles_ had invented this contraption.

'You useless good for nothing!' shouted a chubby dark haired man, grabbing a slender blond boy by the wrist. 'I won't allow it. You'll clean that bathroom with a toothbrush until it gleams!'

The boy snatched his hand away. 'You can't make me,' he said calmly, walking to the other side of the tiny kitchen. 'You're not my father.'

The man gasped. 'You little-!' He lunged for him.

The man's angry fist connected with the side of the boy's head and he was knocked sideways into a cupboard, slithering to the floor unconscious.

The man stopped in his tracks, his face a satisfied sneer and the camera zoomed in on his prolonged reaction. Then music started and a list of names began to roll up the screen.

Draco was stunned. When he finally found his voice he said, "Is that really normal behaviour for Muggles?" He turned to look at Potter who was chewing his lip and staring unblinkingly at the screen. "Potter?"

Potter tore his attention from the screen and fixed his green eyes on Draco and laughed. "No, of course not." Draco could tell he'd forced the laugh. "Not that things like that don't happen for both Muggles and Wizards – programmes like this just throw it all together for dramatic effect."

Draco scanned Potter's pale face. Something about this didn't sit right with him. Potter was upset, Draco could feel it. He felt an unfamiliar kick of concern at Potter's obvious distress. Of course, he needed to know everything he could know about Potter if he was to win his friendship and trust. That was all it was. "What's wrong?" he asked, hoping he sounded sincere. This 'being himself' thing was all very well, but ultimately, by trying to befriend Potter he was being fake, and as such, not everything came naturally. Draco couldn't give a fuck if Potter was upset other than if it affected _his_ mission.

Potter squared his shoulders. "Nothing." He leant over to the coffee table that the room had provided them with and picked up the silver contraption Potter had told him was called a 'remote'. "Are you ready for the next show?"

Draco conceded. He clearly wasn't going to get anything out of Potter today. He shouldn't worry about that yet, this was early days. "What's the next programme?" They had two and a half more hours to go.

Potter pressed a button the remote thing. The title sequence appeared on the screen and Draco read, 'Friends'. That didn't sound very interesting. He settled back against the back of the sofa and tried to relax.

**::**

Two and a half hours later, Draco was utterly hooked, they'd watch two episodes of 'Friends' and then something called 'Only Fools and Horses' and now it was a show called 'Pride and Prejudice'.

"So Mr Darcy actually fancies Elizabeth but he's too proud to admit it because her family is poor?" This was something he could relate to. He himself still had a slim chance of being forced to marry someone he didn't love that his family approved of. If he survived that long.

The thought immediately sobered him. Potter didn't notice Draco's sudden sombreness; in fact he seemed equally as enthralled as Draco had been. "We've only watched an hour of this and there's a lot more to go yet," Potter sighed, turning his hopeful gaze on Draco. "I don't suppose you want to come back another night and watch the rest?"

Draco did want.

**::**

"This is better than you'd hoped for!" Pansy exclaimed, bouncing excitedly on Draco's bed when he arrived back that evening. "He's already asking you to spend more time with him that he doesn't need to."

Draco knew he should be happy with the progress he was making with Potter. He was – he _was_ – but he just hadn't expected to actually like Potter's company as much as he had tonight. When they had been watching those television shows, Potter's sense of humour had come through in his amusing observations and Draco had spent almost all of the shows they had watched before 'Pride and Prejudice' watching Potter's absolute joy, and the way he would laugh out loud and look to Draco for confirmation that the joke had been funny – if it had been anyone other than Potter it would be endearing. For someone Muggle raised, he was acting as though he had never seen a television before.

Draco did not want to start to like Potter, not even slightly. He had to remain impartial; he had his orders and he had to follow them. "Yes, I'm happy with the progress," he replied, flopping back on his bed and patting the spot beside him for Pansy to join him. "He's not as…difficult to be around as I thought he would be."

Pansy turned and rested her head on her hand to stare down at him. "It almost sounds like you actually like him, Draco. You have to be careful-" It was as though she could read his mind, plucking his thoughts of seconds before directly from his mind and vocalising them to hammer the point home. Then she stepped it up a notch, "I think I've already mentioned how hot _I_ think Potter is and it'd be awful if you started to agree with me – because, Draco, you can't have him."

Draco balked. "I don't want him!" Potter was so _not_ his type. Alright, so Draco had long ago decided Potter had the best arse in the known world and he'd acquired a new wardrobe and had started to look better than the scrawny mess he had once been, his eyes were a fantastic shade of green – and green _was_Draco's favourite colour – and perhaps Potter's eyelashes were- No, no, no, no. "Even if I did find him attractive – which I _don't_ – and say he found me attractive too – if anything happened between us it would only be so that I could get closer to him. Nothing more."

Pansy stared down at him for a long couple of minutes. "You find him attractive," she said eventually, her voice certain. "You've always been utterly infatuated with him."

Draco blinked back up at her. "Alright, so he's fit," he conceded. "He's still a total wanker and the key to my mother's survival."

Pansy looked about to argue but the door opened and Blaise stormed in, throwing his bag onto his bed and kicking his desk angrily. Draco had never been happier to see him. This Potter thing was literally all he thought about and with Blaise back in the dark about it; his company was a blessed reprieve.

"What's the matter?" Draco asked, raising his head off his pillow to address his dorm mate.

"Granger!" Blaise huffed. "She took me to a Muggle dentist for our first outing! To her _parents_! Her father did something called a scrape and it really hurt! Apparently Muggles do that every six months. _Then_ I had to go with her to her parent's house and eat fish and chips out of paper wrappings!"

"I love magic," Pansy said. "I love dental spells."

The three of them sighed wistfully.

"I wish Harry was my partner instead of her," Blaise said.

Pansy shot Draco a look, and Draco was catapulted back into reality.

**:o:o:o:**

"I can't believe you took Blaise to the dentist," Harry laughed as Hermione filled him in on her first assignment the following day. "Zabini's teeth are perfect!"

"Well, he suggested flying on Concorde! I think my idea was a little more realistic. If he wants to do the Concorde thing then he's going to have to provide the galleons for it – not that I think Professor Burbage will approve the change now anyway. If he does offer the money and she says yes, I think I might be persuaded." She grinned and nudged Harry affectionately. "How was your evening with Malfoy?"

Harry frowned. "Unsettling."

"What do you mean?"

"That he's not as much of a git as I thought he was. That's he actually pretty funny and not such bad company."

"Oh, Harry-"

"I know, I know. It doesn't mean he's not a Slytherin git whose entire family want to kill me, or that I _like_ him. I sort of had fun. It's just…I don't know."

"What don't you know?" Ron appeared behind him and Harry turned, gaping at the sight of Ron's hair being in complete disarray, sticking up at unnatural angles in clumps.

"What happened to you?" Hermione asked.

"Went for a drive in Justin's dad's Muggle sports car," he said, his face splitting into a bemused smile. "His parents are richer than the Malfoy's in Muggle terms. It was brilliant. I can't wait to tell Dad!"

"Bit windy was it?" Harry observed, raising an eyebrow and nodding at Ron's hair.

Ron continued to beam happily as he attempted to flatten his hair. "So – what?"

Harry shot Hermione a warning glare, but she wasn't watching him, she was looking wistfully at Ron. "Harry thinks Malfoy's not so bad after all."

"What?" Ron's voice rose to a high pitched squeak in that one word.

Harry sighed and braced himself for a tirade.

**::**

Harry's head throbbed. Ever since the evening before when he'd had that conversation with Hermione about Malfoy he hadn't been able to stop thinking about him. He'd gone to bed determined to think about anything other than that particular bloody Slytherin, but that had turned out to be easier said than done.

He couldn't get past the fact that he was _enjoying_ Malfoy's company. He'd almost found himself telling Malfoy why he'd been in a daze after they'd watched that episode of EastEnders – that what was happening to the child in that scene had been reminisce of his own childhood. Vernon had never raised his fists to him, but being screamed at one minute and ignored the next, forced to work for his food and denied freedoms that came as a given to most children were forms of torture themselves. He had hoped he wouldn't have to face the Dursleys again until next summer, and then only until his seventeenth birthday, but now he had to get his permission slip signed. He would go and ask Professor McGonagall for assistance with that tomorrow.

**::**

Professor McGonagall insisted that permission for Harry to visit the Dursleys had to be granted from Professor Dumbledore and Harry found himself in the headmaster's office for the first time that year being offered boiled sweets and strong tea, both of which Harry declined.

"You cannot go alone of course," the headmaster said. "For obvious reasons your Uncle's house is not connected to the Floo system and you are too young to Apparate legally."

Harry waited whilst he pondered.

"I'm sure Professor Slughorn will be happy to go with you. It will give you a chance to get to know him as we discussed," Dumbledore announced eventually and Harry's heart sank. "I'll speak with him and ask him to let you know when would be the best time."

Harry knew better than to argue. Against Dumbledore it never worked. Besides, he had made a promise to him to get to know Slughorn; he'd just been hoping to delay his approach for a little while. He stood to leave.

"Oh, Harry my boy – before you go, I have something for you."

Harry sat back down and waited expectantly as Dumbledore opened one of his desk drawers with his wand after a swift rummage he held out his palm, on top of which was a bracelet. It was black and, as far as Harry could tell, made of leather. Harry took it carefully, staring down at it curiously before saying, "What is it?"

"This, Harry, is a Portkey. I don't wish to alarm you in any way, this is merely a safety precaution should anything happen to you where you find yourself in need of escape. I have no wish to restrict you to the castle when all of your classmates are able to go out and about exploring the Muggle world, but I do need to ensure that you are as protected as you can be." He popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth and continued, "Wear this at all times. To activate it you merely have to rub the metal stud on the underside and say, 'Ariana' and you will be brought directly back here."

Harry dropped his gaze to the bracelet and said, "Thank you, Professor." He slipped it over his right hand and it immediately shrank to fit. "I hope I never need it."

"I hope so too. And please, do not tell anyone why you are wearing the bracelet, not even your closest friends."

**:o:o:o:**

"You watch him all the time, did you know that?" Blaise observed over dinner on Friday, his expression annoyed. "I mean, you always have I suppose, but you've stopped _glaring_ now."

Draco tore his gaze from Potter and flicked Blaise a sneer. "Just trying to work out how someone can have hair that awful and be so oblivious about it."

Blaise turned to look at Potter who was talking animatedly to the she-weasel and was completely oblivious to Draco and Blaise's observation. "I rather think his hair suits him," he said. "Harry's not the groomed type."

Draco caught the look in Blaise's eye – it was almost _hungry_. His natural instinct previously would be to tease his friend for having a crush on the boy wonder, but he had to be careful to avoid any chance that Blaise might get in his way with this of his own plans. Blaise was an attractive guy and Potter might agree.

"Hmm," he said and took a sip from his tea, determinedly not looking over to the Gryffindor table, his mind conjuring an unwelcome image of Blaise and Potter together.

He slammed the tea cup to the table and said as calmly as he could, "Potter's not gay, Blaise. I think he and Ginny Weasley are seeing each other." Draco thought no such thing, but as he hadn't actually said that he _knew_ it for certain…

"Oh," Blaise's eyes widened and he sighed. "Figures."

Draco didn't hear him. His mind had slipped from Ginny Weasley to Potter's Muggle 'friend' - had that been more than friends? Helpfully, his mind supplied images for that as well.

Agitated, he turned to Blaise. "Do you fancy getting drunk tonight?" Theo's worst kept secret ever stash of Firewhiskey was about to be breached. This was a Friday night emergency.

"Did someone say 'get drunk'?" Pansy whispered, sliding onto the bench besides Blaise. "Where's the party?"

**:o:o:o:**

Apparently Dumbledore had wasted no time in speaking to Slughorn about Harry's need for a chaperone to Little Whinging because the professor approached him after breakfast the following morning.

"I thought perhaps we might make the journey at the end of the month?" he suggested, walking alongside Harry as they both headed out of the Great Hall.

Harry had half been hoping to make this sooner to get it over and done with. "That's very kind of you, Sir," he said, realising he didn't have a choice.

"In the meantime, Harry," Slughorn began, stalling Harry and pulling to one side for other students to pass. "I'm having a small gathering of _special_ students tonight. There's a place with your name on it."

Slughorn peered down at him expectantly and Harry wondered if he realised how needy he looked. Harry's acceptance obviously meant a lot to him. Harry would much rather not go to a 'gathering' but- He was all too aware that he needed to get close to his man at Dumbledore's behest and that he hadn't made any kind of effort yet.

"It'd be an honour, Sir," he lied. "What time does it start?"

**::**

"Slughorn cornered me as well, Harry," Hermione told him later, much to his relief. "Apparently being the 'cleverest witch of my year _and_ a Muggleborn' is worthy of an invite. Being a Weasley is not." She nodded at Ron who was curled up an armchair near the fire reading a Quidditch book and clearly trying not to sulk.

"Mate, you can't really want to go to this thing?" Harry said, perching himself on the arm of Ron's chair. "If it wasn't for Dumbledore there's no way I would be going."

Ron lowered his book and glared up at Harry. "It's not that I want to go, it's that I'm not worthy of being asked!" He unfurled his long legs and put the book down on the arm. "At least it's Quidditch try-outs this afternoon, right? Something that's actually worthy of looking forward to."

Ah, yes it was. Harry was captain and guaranteed a spot in the team, but there were an unprecedented number of sign-ups for the try-outs and Harry crossed his fingers that Ron would perform well today, because losing his place on the team would be a huge blow for him.

**::**

"Thank Merlin that Ron pulled it off today," Hermione said as they reluctantly left the Gryffindor common room and headed for Slughorn's quarters for the party. "I don't think I could have coped with his moping if he'd missed out."

"Yes, funny how McLaggen's performance went downhill so fast," Harry said dryly, watching as Hermione's posture stiffened slightly. He laughed. "It's alright, McLaggen is an idiot and I'm sure the team is better off without egos like that." He slipped his hand into the crook of Hermione's arm; a united front to present to whomever was going to be present at this gathering of Slughorn's.

Harry relaxed slightly when he realised that the room wasn't totally packed out with students, and that Blaise Zabini was one of the other students present. Unfortunately, so was Cormac McLaggen. Hermione flushed when she saw him, which McLaggen took as a sign of interest and sidled up to her, saying, "Hermione, you look delightful tonight."

Harry suppressed a laugh and turned to scour the rest of the room, surprised to see Neville and Ginny were also present and whispering intimately in the corner. So, Ron's lack of invite wasn't about his being a Weasley after all. He moved over towards them, smiling, but was waylaid by Blaise.

This was to set the tone for the rest of the evening, Harry sitting around the dinner table between Blaise and Cormac – and when Slughorn wasn't fawning over him or Blaise, the two of them enjoyed quiet conversation about their lists of Muggle pastimes that they had lined up. It seemed that Blaise was a lot more ambitious than Harry and Malfoy; parachute jumping and scuba diving. Hermione had kept those quiet!

"I'm not sure that those are that common amongst Muggles, but I applaud your imagination," Harry laughed.

Blaise's smile fell off his face as their eyes met. "Harry-" He placed a hand on Harry's knee under the table. "I wish I had been assigned to you."

Harry's laughter died as the warmth from Blaise's palm spread through him, his knee feeling as though it was on fire. "Um, Blaise-" He shifted uncomfortably and managed to dislodge Blaise's hand. "I-"

Blaise snatched his hand back and picked up his fork, shuffling food around his plate but making no effort to eat any of it. Harry bit his lip, not liking the awkwardness but not wanting to encourage Blaise. He liked him; he really did, but – not like that. At least, Harry didn't think so. He needed a girlfriend anyway; this thing with other blokes, well, it wasn't going to be the way he lived his life. Not if he wanted a family someday.

Not that Harry could think of a single woman who he could even contemplate kissing right now.

"I'm sorry," Blaise said finally. "I just – like you, you know? I'd like to get to know you better, spend time with you. I heard you were seeing Ginny, but she looks more interested in Longbottom." Harry glanced over and realised Blaise was right, their heads were bent together and Ginny was looking at Neville how she'd always looked at Harry, which was a relief.

"I-"

"I didn't mean to upset you if you are with Ginny." Blaise spoke in a low voice that was for Harry's ears only, but Harry still glanced nervously around the table to check that no one else was listening.

When he realised that no one paying them any attention Harry replied, "I'm not with Ginny. It's just I don't know what I want, Blaise. Can I, can we just be friends for now and see?" He hadn't even intended to say that! He had planned on saying an outright 'no', but apparently his subconscious did not agree.

He'd just as good as admitted that he was at least bi-curious or whatever it was called these days – to a Slytherin! His subconscious clearly thought that Blaise's tall dark and handsome look, combined with his pleasing personality and woeful brown eyes, deserved a chance.

Blaise's answering smile was welcoming. "So you won't object to us spending an evening together next week?"

Harry shook his head, "Just name the time and the place and I will be there." Bloody hell, he really was making a date with Blaise Zabini – no, _not_ a date, because they were not doing that – they were friends. He glanced around the table again before saying, "Can we keep this between us?" His mind went to Malfoy first when he thought about people he didn't want to know about this, which was odd. Why did he care what Malfoy thought of him?

**:o:o:o:**

Draco watched Potter from across the room from beneath his lashes. He was smiling, listening avidly to something the Weasel was saying, one hand propping his head up, the other wrapped around his torso. _His slender Quidditch toned torso_. Draco dropped his gaze and stared down at his hands.

Since his conversation with Blaise the other day about Potter, when it was clearer than ever that Blaise had a thing for him – Draco had been able to think of little else. At least, his inner mind wanted to supply his with thoughts of what it might be like to _touch_ Potter, to feel that tanned skin beneath his fingers, to kiss those soft looking lips and to hear Potter call him _Draco_.

What – the – hell? He'd gone from trying to prevent a relationship developing between Potter and Blaise, to wondering about Potter's Muggle 'friend', to wanting to fuck him senseless.

What? No, no, no! Draco was just going through a dry spell that was all. He was no cowering virgin; he knew what it was like to have a warm wet tongue on his cock and a finger up his arse. He knew how it felt to slide his cock into a tight hole and explode inside another boy. He'd known this since he was fourteen years old, and he _knew_ that Potter's skin would feel no different from the other boys he'd fucked in the past, and that his lips would be no softer than anyone else's. So what _was_ this? Why did this have to happen now? Just because Potter's company wasn't as bad as Draco had assumed it would be and that perhaps, so far, this Muggle studies thing wasn't completely awful, did not mean Draco had a thing for the idiot.

He did not. Never.

He was so lost in his own head that he didn't notice Potter's approach. "Malfoy?"

Draco almost fell off the bench at the sound of that voice scraping across his confused brain, thinking for a moment that his subconscious had conjured it to torment him.

"Huh? What-? Oh, Potter," Draco forced a smile.

Potter's eyes widened, "Um, are you alright, Malfoy? You look as though you're in pain."

So his smile had manifested more like a grimace. Draco couldn't be perfect all of the time! "I'm fine, Potter. Your concern is touching," he smoothed back his hair and stared up at him, or rather, just past him, because he really didn't think that he could look into those eyes at the moment without blushing, and that_would not do_. "What can I do for you?"

"I just wondered if you wanted to meet in the Room of Requirement tonight to watch a couple of hours of Pride and Prejudice like we agreed."

Of course, the Muggle television programme that they had both found so captivating. He nodded. This was perfect, more time alone with Potter to forge a bond.

"If you don't want to…" Potter started when Draco didn't reply, the old defensive strain in his voice as though this was an argument they were having last year, back when Umbridge ruled the school and Draco had joined her Squad just so he could piss Potter off.

"No, I do, I'm just a little distracted this morning, that's all," Draco covered. "Meet me there after dinner?"

**::**

This set the pattern for the next week with a three hour session playing Muggle video games on a Nintendo 64 they had asked the room for slotted in between. It was something of a disaster as it was clear Potter had never played on one before.

Draco had firmly locked thoughts of touching Potter's flesh into a box and shoved it far into the back of his head. The two of them still sat at opposite ends of the sofa the Room provided, both of them paying rapt attention to Mr Darcy and Elizabeth in companionable silence.

On Friday night they finished the series. Potter looked gutted when it ended. Draco teased him, calling him a girl, and Potter's resulting blush and subsequent 'it takes one to know one' retort risked the box in his head opening wide calling forth an urge to touch Potter that was so strong Draco had to sit on his hands to keep himself in check.

"I can't believe we're laughing together," Potter said, pulling his knees up under his chin and sitting back against the armrest of the sofa, staring at Draco over his knees. The Muggle jeans pulled tight over his arse and Draco swallowed, forcing his eyes to meet Potter's – better that than staring at his the spot where his- No. Draco shook his head. This was getting out of hand. This was 'business'. He was doing this because he had to. Potter's fate once Draco handed him over was not his concern. His own mother's fate _was_.

"Neither can I," Draco said, which was a genuine response. He really couldn't, not really. They were spending time together, not arguing, not hexing one another – enjoying one another's company. Alright, so maybe part of the reason there were no arguments or curses flying was because Draco was being nice to Potter for a reason. He had an agenda that he had to stick to and he couldn't forget that, no matter how easy that had been on recent occasions.

He didn't want to think about how he hadn't even _wanted_ to hex Potter once these last couple of weeks, well, other than for making Draco think about kissing him, but that didn't really count. That was a wholly new experience.

He looked away, despite his good intentions; those eyes had the potential to be his undoing. If Draco gave in and kissed Potter- If they became 'more than friends' instead of following Draco's original plan, then was that a bad thing? If he fucked Potter it wouldn't mean anything more than this potential friendship did; it just meant that Draco's sexual frustration would have an outlet for a while. Merlin knew that there was no one on school this year that could help him with that, not since Graham Montague had left at the end of last year.

Potter shook his head and unfolded his legs, affording Draco a glimpse of toned stomach as his t-shirt rode up as he stood. Salazar; when _had_ Potter become so hot?

"I'll see you later, Malfoy," he said, heading for the door. "I hope you're ready for Muggle bike riding next week." He laughed to himself and slipped through the door.

Draco counted to ten, cast a series of locking charms on the door and undid the top button of his trousers. This was _bad_.

**:o:o:o:**


	4. Chapter 4

**:o:o:o:**

Uncle Vernon signed the consent form for Harry without demur, which was initially a pleasant surprise until he said, directly to Slughorn, ignoring Harry completely, "We're having friends to stay with us over Christmas. I trust the boy will be able to stay at the school?"

Harry stared at the floor. His family's lack of love for him, hell, lack of any feeling for him that wasn't annoyance or hatred, had long since stopped hurting him – but having it displayed for others to see was uncomfortable.

"Of course, Mr Dursley," boomed Slughorn, patting Harry on the back. "I'll be around over the Christmas holidays; we can keep each other company, eh, Harry?"

Mutely, Harry nodded. It wasn't as though he _wanted_ to come back here. He just wondered what it would be like to have a family who cared for him, who loved him. Sirius was gone, and the Weasleys weren't his own, they were on loan, weren't they? If Harry fell out with Ron for any reason then there'd be no more Weasleys for him, and he was always mindful of that. Really, he was alone in the world.

Suddenly he felt that very acutely.

He tuned out of the awkward small talk his Uncle and his professor were suffering and, muttering something about needing something from his room. He ran upstairs to the window. It was a long shot but- Seth was at his desk, head bent, chewing his lip as he wrote swiftly into a notebook. He must have sensed Harry's eyes on him, because he looked up then, his instinctive smile at Harry's appearance stifled as he obviously remembered how they had parted. Harry nodded down towards the back garden and Seth gave him a thumbs up.

Harry ran back downstairs, barely noticing that Uncle Vernon had made Slughorn a cup of tea and that the two of them were avidly discussing Merlin knew what. Harry made for the back door, crossed the garden and slid behind the shed where the hole in the fence that led to Seth's house was hidden.

"I thought you were away at school?" Seth accused as soon as he slid through the fence. "And what makes you think I want to talk to you after the vanishing act you pulled last time?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said taking Seth's hand and threading his fingers through his, feeling instantly comforted. He knew this was probably goodbye for them, and it was the right thing to do. Seth had been of the moment, his first, and his summer affair. There was no future in this. He felt fond of him, but he couldn't see beyond that. "It's complicated."

"You always were," Seth said fondly, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I've never met anyone as secretive as you, Harry."

"I'm only here for a short while, and then I doubt I'll be back until the summer, and even then only briefly."

"Then this is goodbye?" Seth said. Before Harry could reply the older man dropped to his knees, on hand on Harry's hip, the other lowering the zip on his jeans. "I'd better make damn sure that you remember me, hadn't I?"

**::**

When Harry slipped back into the house half an hour later his cheeks were pink and he knew he had to look thoroughly ravished despite his efforts to tidy his hair and smooth down his rumpled t-shirt. His head was reeling, mostly with the guilt of how, when he'd looked down at the blond head sucking him off minutes before, for a moment it hadn't been Seth, it had been Draco Malfoy.

"Ah, there you are, Harry," Slughorn said tightly. The façade of camaraderie – probably based on fear on Vernon's part - between him and Uncle Vernon had obviously slipped. "Where on earth have you been? Come – we need to be getting back to Hogwarts."

"Bye, Uncle Vernon," Harry said as he followed Slughorn out of the front door.

His only response was a grunt.

**::**

"So, have you ridden a bicycle before?" Harry asked Draco as they prepared to step into the Floo in the staff common room, made available for the use of Muggle studies students by prior arrangement.

Their destination was The Black Cross, and old pub in the small town of Bromport that served both Muggles and Wizards; Wizards could mingle with the Muggles if he was in the humour or there was a separate Wizard bar upstairs, magically enlarged so that Muggles would never know it was there. From the pub they would walk half a mile to the local park where they would magically enlarge two bicycles that they had acquired with Burbage's help. Enlarging the bikes, behind the cover of trees, was the only magic they had permission to do whilst out of school.

"No," Draco said, grabbing a handful of powder and shouting out the destination address. He stepped into the fireplace and was engulfed by the green flames. Harry followed, stumbling inelegantly out the other end to find Malfoy leaning nonchalantly against the bar watching him with an amused smile. How was it the git _never_ looked ruffled? "I'm entrusting my bicycling education to you, Potter. I hope you live up to the challenge."

"It's not that different from riding a broomstick," Harry said and flushed as Draco smirked and Harry remembered Pansy's saying that she 'wouldn't say no to a ride on his broomstick', which was presumably where Draco's mind had gone as well. Harry pressed on. "It's all about balance and being in control."

Harry was lucky he was able to ride a bike. It was hardly as though his family had taught him. Dudley had gone through one bike after another, seeming to qualify for a new one every six months or so because 'he's grown so tall'. Harry had been allowed to use a cast off bike that Dudley had wrecked so much that Uncle Vernon hadn't been able to send it back to the shop as part-exchange for a new one.

A kind American man named Mick who'd lived at number ten for a few years, had taken pity on Harry's lone attempts to pedal the bike on the pavement outside his house. He had given Harry a few lessons. It had been one of the highlights of Harry's childhood; if not _the_ highlight until he turned eleven and found a whole new world waiting for him.

The park wasn't very big, but it did have several tarmac covered paths winding around a small duck pond in the middle and was perfect for bike riding.

They wheeled their bikes out from behind the trees in the corner of the park, over the grass towards the footpath. It was a weekday afternoon during term time, so there were just a few dog-walking Muggles around. Harry did a quick recce to make sure there was no one too close before saying, "Are you ready for your lesson?"

Malfoy nodded, his expression determined. "Looking forward to it, Potter."

**::**

"This is amazing!" Malfoy called as he sailed past Harry as they raced one another around the circular looped path in the park. He held his legs out straight in front of him as he rounded the top of the hill. "Whee!"

Behind him, Harry smiled. Malfoy had taken to riding a bike like a natural. After a couple of complaints about the ache in his legs, he'd really gone for it. The pure joy on his face as he span around the track was immeasurable.

Harry cruised along behind him, the wind in his hair and adrenaline pouring through his veins. This was similar to flying in many ways. When Malfoy screeched to a halt on the tiny bridge that went over the brook Harry stopped behind him, one foot resting on the floor, the other on a pedal ready to push off again.

"I need a drink," Malfoy announced. "We've been at this for over two hours."

"Shall we go back to the pub for a drink before we go back to Hogwarts?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Malfoy grinned, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. Harry had never seen him look so dishevelled. He even had a leaf in his hair!

Harry reached out a hand to remove the leaf, his fingers coming into contact with soft blond silk as he did so, eliciting an unwitting gasp from his lips. "I – um – you have a leaf," he stammered, holding it up as evidence.

"Oh," Malfoy said, his grey eyes locked on Harry's. How had Harry ever thought them colourless? They had a depth to them that made Harry feel like he could see inside his soul. Harry couldn't look away. He wanted to stay there in this odd bubble, for as long as he could, but- No one told the disgruntled Muggle who barged his way between them muttering something about 'inconsiderate youths', and the spell was broken.

Harry snapped back into his own mind, pushing off on the bike and calling behind him, "Race you to the pub!"

**:o:o:o:**

"How are you getting on with Potter?" Pansy asked on Friday night after bursting into his dorm after dinner. This was the first time she'd had a chance to for some days, being that she'd become rather pre-occupied with wooing a seventh year Ravenclaw by the name of Duncan Inglebee with whom she was utterly smitten.

Draco, enjoying some rare alone time in the dorm with Blaise and Theo being wonderfully absent, sighed and carefully placed his favourite quill on one side so that he could afford Pansy the attention she demanded.

"It depends what you mean by 'getting on'," he said, thinking of his and Potter's extended day out on Tuesday, whereby they had stayed in the Muggle section of the Black Cross pub and Potter had used his Muggle money to buy them something called Guinness, which Draco immediately decided was the most disgusting thing he had ever tasted, so Potter had bought them whiskey and coke instead, which Draco did approve of, and it had been three hours and several whiskies later when the landlord of the pub had come looking for them at the request of a concerned Professor Burbage.

Draco had missed classes all the following morning from his hangover, which he was not allowed a potion for, and both he and Potter received two nights of detention, which unfortunately was to be spent separately. He had had to report to Burbage and write an essay on why disregarding age limits in both the Muggle and the Wizarding world was unacceptable. As far as he knew, Potter had been sent to the Slughorn for his detention, and since their undignified return to the school on Tuesday evening, Draco hadn't spoken to him.

"I mean are you friends yet?"

"I don't know if you would call us friends." He thought about the fun he had had in the park with Potter, and the increasingly slurred conversation they had shared in the pub afterwards. He remembered Potter mumbling something about Draco not being so bad after all and asking why he didn't show his nice side more often, but most of it was a blur.

He also recalled that by the end of the evening they had been sitting side by side, their shoulders touching, Draco only just managing to resist the urge to lean his head on Potter's shoulder.

They _were_ getting on well. It was easy to tease one another and talk about Quidditch, or having Potter explain to him the rules of Muggle football or tell him about what it was really like when he was fighting a dragon in the Tri-Wizard tournament. "We are getting on though."

However, _friends_ confided in one another, sought out each other's company for no reason other than that they wanted to spend time together. Potter had done none of that since 'Pride and Prejudice' ended and Draco thought it was too soon for him to start making approaches into Potter's spare time. Stuff like that needed to build.

In the spirit of friendship, Pansy being the friend in question, Draco confessed, "I'm attracted to him."

The smile slipped off Pansy's face. "Draco- You can't. If you go down that route you'll become attached to him. We've been over this…"

"I won't get attached," Draco said, not sure if he was trying to convince himself or Pansy. "I was fooling around with Montague all last year; you don't see me pining for him now do you?"

"You were just using Montague for sex, you didn't actually enjoy his company," Pansy pointed out, and she was right. Montague was a self-absorbed idiot with a lack of brain cells and a fantastically talented tongue. Draco only missed the fucking, he didn't miss _him_.

"I could just use Potter for sex," he reasoned. "Just because we're getting on okay doesn't mean I _like_ him, Pans. He's a means to an end for this fucking mission; but you were right, he is hot and if he was amenable, he could be a means to that end as well." He crudely gestured to his crotch, wincing at his own crassness; a sure sign that he was trying to deflect attention away from the real issue.

"What makes you think he would be amenable?" Pansy asked, lying back on Draco's bed and staring at the ceiling. "As far as we know, he's straight."

"Just a feeling," Draco said, remembering how Potter had looked at him when he'd taken the leaf out of his hair in the park the other day. "I don't know…wishful thinking?"

"Draco, stop this before you start it," Pansy warned. "Stick to the mission, make friends with the idiot, but don't do this, don't get involved like that."

Draco dropped his head to his hands. "Salazar, I hate him." Even as the words left his lips Draco knew there was no longer any truth to them and trying to hide that behind stupid suggestions like using him for sex was fooling no one.

**::**

A larger dose of reality came in the form of Greg and Vince, cornering him in the common room after dinner a week later. Draco had only spoken to Potter in Muggle studies on the Tuesday and that had been horribly stilted, like they had taken a step back and hadn't called a truce between them. Draco wasn't sure if it was because of him or Potter, or both, because neither of them had spoken other than to discuss the merits of bicycling with the rest of the class before listening to the activities of the other groups and pairs.

These days, Greg and Vince pretty much left him alone, but Draco knew they were keeping an eye on him.

"You don't seem to be making much progress with Potter," Greg said, his breath hot in Draco's ear. "We haven't seen you talk to him once this week."

"Yeah," Vince added nastily. "And the Dark Lord wants a progress report."

Draco swallowed. "Does he now?" He searched his mind for the right words that would be in a language his dimmer friends would understand. "Tell him that I'm getting there slowly; if Potter is going to trust me it's not going to happen overnight."

"The Dark Lord wants results by Christmas, Draco," Greg said almost apologetically. "You don't have long."

"Greg, until recently Potter loathed me; now he's tolerating me. I don't know if I can have him _trusting_ me by Christmas." Draco felt sick. It was October already. "Do you – do you know how my Mother is?"

"The Dark Lord has her bound to the manor, she has free reign but no wand and she can't leave." Greg's eyes met his and his hand rested briefly on Draco's forearm. He hadn't forgotten their years of friendship after all, even if Vince seemed content to pretend. "Draco – he means business."

Draco stood in that corner for a long time, staring at the embers of a dying fire, his world falling apart around him. He wasn't making any progress with Potter and what was worse was that all he could think about when not worrying about his mother was how much he wanted to kiss Potter, and how much he had enjoyed his company last week.

He didn't _want_ to hand him over to the Dark Lord, but his mother… His mother had to come first. Draco owed Potter nothing, he could fend for himself.

Draco had to believe that.

**:o:o:o:**

Malfoy surprised him outside Honeydukes, when Harry was all stocked up on his favourite chocolates and full of excitement for the rest of Saturday. Ron and Hermione were still inside, Harry had snuck out, disliking the crowds inside once he had chosen what he wanted. He was going to go ahead to the Three Broomsticks and grab a table.

"Hello, Potter," Malfoy greeted him, breaking away from Crabbe and Goyle and walking over to him. "I'll see you later!" he called behind him, his gaze set on Harry.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted, wishing he'd stayed back at school now. Draco was the last person he wanted to see right now. Draco was the last person he wanted to see _ever_.

"If I was a paranoid person, Potter, I'd think that you were avoiding me."

Draco Malfoy was astute, Harry would give him that. He'd been avoiding him since their day in the park. He didn't like the way his heart rate sped up when he thought of him, or how he was thinking about him all the time – and especially not how he was dreaming about him or how his wank fantasies always ended up with Malfoy's head on their shoulders.

Well, at least he had finally admitted one thing to himself. He was gay, not bi, g-a-y, and the sooner he stopped kidding himself the easier things would be for him; it wasn't as though his life was ever going to be 'normal' anyway. Yes he wanted a family, he wanted kids – assuming he lived that long and didn't meet his doom at the hand of Voldemort – but he _could_ have that with a bloke, it would just happen differently that was all. Anyway, for Merlin's sake, he was sixteen years old. There was plenty of time to worry about children and weddings and all of that when he was older. A _lot_ older!

"You're not paranoid, Malfoy," Harry said, moving past him and heading towards the pub. He sensed rather than saw Malfoy follow him.

"You mean you are avoiding me?" Malfoy caught up with him and walked alongside him, meeting Harry's increased pace with ease.

"I wouldn't say that," Harry lied. "I mean that I'm not actively seeking you out. Did you think that because we're 'getting on' that we're suddenly friends? Malfoy, I'm almost touched."

Malfoy's hand on his arm stalled him in his tracks. "So you won't be interested in another Muggle programme I found out about, one like Pride and Prejudice?"

"You want us to watch more television together?" Malfoy looked so hopeful that Harry was almost tempted. "What's it called?"

"Persuasion," Malfoy replied. "It's only a couple of hours."

"When were you thinking?" Harry bit his lip. He was supposed to be saying no! He was utterly pathetic. What had happened to his resolve?

"Tonight?"

Thank Merlin, Harry was busy tonight, he was meeting Blaise after dinner; his refusal wouldn't be a lie.

"Sorry Malfoy no can do tonight." He shook Malfoy's hand from his arm and continued to the pub, half surprised when Malfoy didn't follow. Surprised but pleased, obviously. Malfoy was a temptation he couldn't afford. The son of Lucius Malfoy, nephew to the woman who had killed his godfather? No, Harry must never forget that Draco Malfoy was the enemy, no matter how pretty his eyes were or how nice his arse.

**::**

"You're quiet tonight," Blaise said, startling Harry out of his daze. This was becoming ridiculous; he had to stop thinking about Malfoy and the look on his face when Harry had rejected his offer today. He'd looked, for a brief moment before he'd successfully hidden it, devastated.

Why?

It had barely been a month since the two of them were thrown together. How could Harry's opinion of him have changed so much in such a small length of time? It was…wrong.

"Just thinking about stuff, that's all," he smiled at Blaise, shifting slightly in discomfort at the look in his eye. Blaise was making no secret that he wanted to move this friendship forwards. They had started to meet a once or twice a week to play cards, or even just to do their homework together and talk.

Blaise was gorgeous, tall, dark, well-built and obviously smitten with Harry. Harry couldn't want for more in a boyfriend. But he had no doubt that if he gave in to Blaise, he would regret it. He just didn't know why. Was it too soon after Seth? Or the fact that he wasn't 'out' yet – more specifically, he hadn't told his best friends. He wanted to do that before anything happened with Blaise…if anything _was_ going to happen with Blaise.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry bit his lip and shook his head. "It's something I have to work out for myself." Why did everything have to be so complicated? He was gay. He was lusting after the one person he should never touch. He was trying to fancy the right person, someone who could be good for him, but he could only think of the one he shouldn't have. He grabbed his bag off the back of his chair and began to pack his books away. "I need to see Hermione. I'm sorry to cut this short it's just – I need to-"

Blaise closed a large hand over Harry's smaller one, stopping his rapid packing. "It's okay, Harry, I understand perfectly."

As he left the room, the penny dropped. That was what was missing… Blaise was too _nice_. Not like Malfoy. Malfoy would always keep him on his toes.

**::**

Ron and Hermione were surprised but immediately supportive of Harry's confession. He hated keeping things from them, so he told them about Seth, and about how he was sort of, but not really, seeing Blaise Zabini. He made no mention of Malfoy, and really, what was there to tell them about that anyway? It's not like he could tell them that he longed to ride Malfoy's cock and that he dreamt about him every night, or that sometimes when he looked at him all he wanted to do was clear the room of other people and drop to his knees at his feet; although the thought of Ron's face if he did confess that almost made it tempting.

**::**

The next thing on the Muggle studies list was Harry's suggestion. They were going to a rock concert to see the Muggle band Oasis. It didn't fall on a Tuesday or a weekend, and they'd had to get special permission to go out in the evening. All Harry knew about Oasis was what he'd heard blasting out of Dudley's bedroom over the summer, and that they were supposedly, according to his cousin, 'super bad ass'. Whatever they were, it was an evening away from the school doing something he'd never done before.

They were under strict instructions not to drink alcohol this time, and as Harry didn't want to risk a detention or risk being caught staring at Malfoy's lips like they were a rare delicacy, Harry planned to abstain.

Watching Malfoy's wide-eyed awe at the raw power of the rock band was largely more fascinating than the gig itself. When Draco asked him afterward what he had thought of the band, Harry hadn't been talking about the band when he replied, "Captivating."

**:o:o:o:**

Draco tried to remain aloof to these feelings he'd been having for Potter. It wasn't easy; he was supposed to befriend him and Potter was fun company, he found himself wanting to spend time with him outside of their agreed meetings. When he'd asked him again if he wanted to watch 'Persuasion' and saw the indecision in those green eyes before he caved in, Draco had wanted to punch the air and shout 'yes!' to the world.

After that they took it in turns to find new period dramas to watch, each of them taking it for granted that the other would approve. They started lingering after the programme had finished and would talk about the plot and characters, which would inevitably lead to other topics; the only subject Harry was really reluctant to go into was his childhood.

Draco had used to believe that Potter had had it all, but he was starting to think he'd been wrong about that and about so much else as well. There was a lot more to Harry Potter than Draco had ever realised. He was a fascinating combination of pride, humour and- Well, the list was long. He'd thought Potter an attention seeker but was finding he was actually the opposite. He also had that fantastic arse and, Salazar; Draco couldn't stop thinking about it.

He found that his increasingly frequent late night wank fantasies consistently starred Potter and if he started off thinking of the star Quidditch player for the Cannons or anyone else, by the time Draco came, his mind was full of green eyes and arses that he was certain were made for his hands to grip onto.

The realisation that someone one had hated for so long was actually a decent chap and someone he enjoyed the company of was difficult to come to terms with. Even worse than that was that he liked him and he was going to have to betray him.

**::**

Draco insisted that Harry choose the Muggle film they went to see at the cinema. For this, they went on a weekend evening to the nearest Muggle town to Hogwarts, taking their brooms as far as was safe and hiding them on the town outskirts and walking in together.

Draco found Muggle towns more fascinating than he would ever want to let on. It was dark as they walked from the perimeter into the town centre and towards the cinema, past rows of tiny tightly packed houses and those with bigger houses that had space between them and driveways with cars on them, many of which had their early evening lighting beaming out onto the street and Draco enjoyed glancing inside and the people within if their curtains were open.

Couples sitting on sofas, eating, cuddling, watching the television, people reading, children playing, a teenager and a parent having a blazing row that Draco was sure could be heard in the next town. All of these people living their lives without magic and happy to do so. They knew no better.

It made Draco feel privileged, but he was more surprised that he didn't feel superior about it. This was an epiphany in itself. He'd believed for so long that Muggles were useless waste of spaces, but when it came down to it, really – Draco had never met any Muggles or seen them in their own setting; what the hell did he know?

Jane Eyre and Elizabeth Bennett were fictional Muggles living in a bygone era, if he could find affinity with them, why not with real people?

"What kind of house did you grow up in, Potter?" he asked when the houses started to turn into shops as the residential area faded away. They had been walking in a comfortable silence, Potter seeming as interested in the lives of the Muggles through windows as Draco was.

Potter stopped walking, his hands firm in his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he stared at the floor. "Just a normal one, you know, three bedrooms, tiny front garden back garden, shed."

"I don't know though, Potter, do I? I've never been in a Muggle house. This is the first time I've ever really seen any. My parents– we would always Floo to friend's houses and of course they were Wizarding families – pure bloods of course, with houses like ours."

"Right." Potter chewed his lip, raising his eyes to meet Draco's. "Are you asking me to take you to the Dur- to the house I grew up in?"

Draco hadn't been, but now Potter had put it out there, there was nothing he wanted more. "I think I am."

Potter smiled but it didn't meet his eyes. "I'll see what I can do. I'd have to make sure my family was out first though." His smile grew brighter and he nudged Draco with his elbow. "Come on, we'll miss the start of the film if we loiter here all day." He started to walk again.

"You're the one who stopped!" Draco huffed, following Potter around a corner where on the other side of the road was a large building with shabby backlit white glass on the front and in black stick on letters it read: 'Now showing – Independence Day'. Draco felt a quiver of excitement. It was one thing watching Muggle films on the television, but on a huge cinema screen – this was going to be amazing.

**:o:o:o:**

"But how did he know how to fly the alien thing?" Malfoy demanded as they left the cinema and Harry laughed. He had been thinking the same thing himself. The crossed the road outside the cinema to head back to where they had stored their broomsticks and stopped, huge grins on both of their faces. "Potter, you idiot, you have popcorn in your hair!"

Malfoy reached out a hand to snatch it away and Harry's breath caught in his throat.

Malfoy's hand stilled and he pulled away. Harry felt his heart sink into his trainers even as it still pounded furiously from the near contact. Harry threaded his hand into his hair and came back with the popcorn in question and threw it at Malfoy who yelped and ducked. "Watch it, Potter!" he protested, but Harry could tell there was no venom or malice and in its place was amusement.

He let out the breath he had been holding. He liked this Malfoy; part of him mourned that they hadn't been like this all along. This was immediately followed by guilt towards Hermione and Ron. No one had better friends than he did in them.

But Malfoy… Malfoy stirred his blood, always had; only now, it was a good thing.

Maybe.

**::**

"You're spending a lot of time with Malfoy," Hermione observed, too casually for Harry's liking a few days after the cinema outing as they sat in the corner of the common room together, Hermione reading, Harry staring into the fire trying to figure what was going on inside his stupid head. The fire just flickered back at him, it held no answers.

"We are working together you know," Harry replied, not looking at her because he was certain that if he did, she would _know_. Hermione had a knack of being able to read what he was thinking at a thousand paces.

"As am Blaise and I, but you don't see me spending all of my spare time with him, do you? In fact, you spend more time with Malfoy than you do with your alleged boyfriend."

"Shhh – Hermione-" Harry glanced around himself nervously. It was one thing for Hermione and Ron to know he was _gay_ but another for the whole school to find out. Luckily it was late and most of their fellow Gryffindors had gone to bed.

"Sorry, Harry – but it's true. If you're not with us or Blaise you're with Malfoy. You're spending all of your time with Slytherins! Who would ever have predicted that at the start of the year?"

"Malfoy's not so bad," Harry defended. "He's actually witty and clever and…not such a git as I thought. He seems to have dropped all that supremacy crap he always used to spout. It's like Lucius is in prison and Malfoy is free to be himself."

"What happens when his father comes out of Azkaban?"

Harry stared down at his hands. They were in his lap, silently praying. Hermione was voicing something that he had been thinking about non-stop. What if this version of Malfoy was only temporary? What if his father came out of prison and Malfoy ditched him and returned back to his old self? Harry wasn't sure he could take that. He was falling under his spell so rapidly that losing him was going to be hell.

"What about Blaise?"

Harry sighed and looked at Hermione, shaking his head. "I _want_ to want him."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said softly, and Harry felt the warmth of her small palm close over the back of this hand. "Malfoy, huh?"

"Malfoy," Harry replied.

**::**

Blaise wasn't Harry's only reason to feel guilty. Professor Slughorn was causing a whole tumult of guilt all of his own. Harry didn't much like the man, he was too concerned with who knew who and how well connected they were, and not about the person underneath. When Harry conversed with him Slughorn would drop names of his famous ex-students and well known connections like someone else might talk of their actual friends. Harry was fed up of forcing himself to join in and respond.

Unfortunately, Slughorn didn't seem to notice Harry's reticence, or perhaps he simply didn't care, because Harry was having to spend time chatting with him after class and if Slughorn collared him in the hallway Harry would find himself taking tea as well.

The idea of making friends with someone for a hidden agenda did not sit well with Harry.

It was a horrible feeling, because much as he disliked Slughorn, Harry felt that he deserved better than to be befriended for whatever it was Dumbledore wanted him to get out of him, even if Slughorn was using Harry for a similar end and probably dropping _his_ name to other.

Yet – he did it because he had made a promise. Dumbledore wouldn't ask him to help without having a good reason; Harry had to have faith.

**::**

"I've been wondering what it was like for you when you didn't know you were a wizard," Malfoy said as he and Harry packed up at the end of Muggles studies on Tuesday and then, "I want to watch a Muggle film about magic and see what Muggles think magic is."

"You want to watch a Muggle film about magic because you want to know what it was like for me when I was- _before_ I was a Wizard?"

Malfoy flushed. "Yes."

"So why don't you ask me what it was like before I knew? I don't understand how a film would answer that for you."

"Would you tell me? You always change the subject when the subject turns to our childhoods."

Harry pretended to consider, but really, there was nothing to think about. He could barely remember what it had felt like to hate Malfoy. Past events seemed to have lost their related emotions and his fights with Malfoy felt as though they had happened to someone else. It was like dipping into a Pensieve; on the outside looking in.

"I'll take you to my Aunt and Uncle's house on Saturday; if you have questions after that, then I promise I will answer them."

The way that Malfoy's face lit up speared at Harry's heart. How the hell had this happened?

"Thank you," Malfoy said, reaching out to touch Harry's upper arm gently before preceding him from the room. Harry followed but made no effort to catch him up. He needed some time to himself of process what the hell he was doing because, seriously, how did he think that this was going to play out with Malfoy? Even if Malfoy wasn't interested in him romantically, and this was just a friendship…Malfoy was the son of a Death Eater. What was Harry doing thinking that he could trust him? And why didn't that matter as much as it should?

**:o:o:o:**


	5. Chapter 5

**:o:o:o:**

"Potter's taking me to his childhood home on Saturday," Draco said conversationally when he came back from an evening of period drama with Potter in the Room of Requirement, aiming for nonchalance despite the churning in his stomach. He wasn't sure how he knew this, but he had a feeling that this was a big deal – for Potter that was – and this was probably the moment that would define their friendship.

"He's _what_?" Blaise stopped writing and almost dropped his quill as he turned to face Draco.

"What's so odd about that?" Draco said. His feigned nonchalance turned into annoyance. "Didn't you go to Granger's for dinner on your first outing?"

"It's just he never said, that's all."

Draco's stomach plummeted. "Said? I didn't think you saw much of Potter anymore?" Blaise and Potter weren't Herbology partners this year and Draco had thought he had discouraged Blaise when he'd told him he thought that Potter was dating the she-weasel a few weeks ago.

"We're sort of dating," Blaise said, his eyes gleaming fondly. Then his face fell, "He asked me not to tell anyone. Shit. He won't be happy with me!"

If Draco had been in any doubt regarding how quickly and how _much_ his feelings for Potter had changed, hearing Blaise say that he was dating Potter clarified it for him. He'd felt jealousy before, but not like this, not like someone had reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart so tight that he thought he might stop breathing forever, as though he wanted to crawl into a dark cold space and never come out again.

He forced himself not to show this to Blaise, somehow managing to say, "No, he didn't." And then, "He's not as straight as I thought then?"

"No, he's definitely _not_ straight," Blaise said with a fond laugh and Draco's head filled with images of Blaise and Potter entangled, hot and sweaty, laughing together, of Potter straddling Blaise's lap, one hand wrapped around both of their cocks-

He leapt to his feet, feeling sick. "I just remembered I need to go to the library," he invented, heading for the door. "I- I'll see you later?"

Blaise shrugged and turned back to his homework allowing Draco to flee.

He ran through the common room and found himself down by the lake before realising where he was going. He sank back against his favourite tree, ignoring the chill in the air, and dropped his head to his knees.

Everything was going so wrong. He was getting where he wanted, Potter was getting closer and closer to being a 'friend', yet- Friends was not enough. Draco wanted it all, wanted to forget that this was a world where they were enemies and he was supposed to befriend Potter for a mission. Not that any of it mattered, whilst he'd been trying to get close to Potter, had thought that he was doing so well, all along he had been _dating_ Blaise.

Blaise had got there first. Potter wasn't Draco's for the taking; he belonged to Blaise Zabini. The hand around Draco's heart constricted and he couldn't breathe. Merlin, this fucking _hurt_.

His first sob took him by surprise, bursting out of his throat unchecked, echoing across the surface of the lake and into the still of the night. He didn't know what to do. He was crying over Harry Potter, but what about his mother?

He was forgetting why he was doing this.

He'd been such a fool and to make matters worse, his head had been so full of Potter that he'd almost lost sight of his priorities; his mother was locked away at the manor and Draco was too busy filling his head with things that could never be! Potter was a commodity to be traded for his mother's life and Draco would do well to never forget that.

Angrily he dashed the tears away with the back of his hand, muttering under his breath to himself that he needed to focus. So, his mother's life or Potters? No contest.

**::**

"Um, I don't know what you're expecting when we to my family's house," Potter said nervously on Saturday morning when Draco met him to go through the staff room Floo.

"I'm not expecting anything," Draco replied, forcing himself to sound 'normal' and not show Potter that he was furious with him. It hadn't been jealousy, he'd decided at some point during his sojourn by the lake but anger at being thwarted in his plan to get close to Potter. He didn't have _feelings_ for Potter, he was just projecting or something. He had to be.

He'd heard rumours, years ago, that Potter's family weren't all that nice to him, but he'd imagined that the setting for the not-so-niceness took place in an elaborate Muggle home not unlike some of the homes of his less well to do pure blood friends; not everyone could live somewhere like the manor after all, and Draco knew that many Muggles lived in wonderful luxury. Potter's relatives might not be the nicest Muggles on earth, but-

"We're Flooing to Mrs Figg's – she's the squib who lives near to my family," Potter explained as he grabbed a handful of Floo powder and stepped into the fireplace. Draco followed, pleased to note that whoever Mrs Figg was, she didn't appear to be home as he followed Potter to her front door. Presumably this tiny little dwelling was a few streets away from Potter's.

When he reached the door Potter stopped and said, "I made sure they were going to be out when we visit, but I've brought the invisibility cloak just in case. I don't want them to know we're there." He glanced behind him to make sure that Draco was following. "They don't like me very much."

Draco didn't reply. If Potter was looking for sympathy at his sad pathetic little life he certainly wasn't going to get it from him!

When they stepped out into the street Draco gasped. This was a row of small houses, not as small as some they had passed on their walk to the cinema the other day, but still smaller than the gardener's cottage at the manor. Draco wondered how people, families, lived in such small houses.

Glancing around as he walked beside Potter down the street revealed what seemed to be a whole complex of identical houses, each with Muggle cars and neatly tended tiny lawns on the front with varying numbers of shiny garden ornaments and milk bottles on the front steps.

When Potter stopped a couple of moments later in front of one of those houses, one with a number four on the door, Potter said, "This is it, home sweet home," there was an obvious bitterness to his voice. "Come on, no point hanging around, the neighbours will talk."

Potter walked up the tiny drive, devoid of cars, and produced a metal key from his jeans pocket. The door opened easily and Potter beckoned for Draco to follow.

When Draco stepped over the threshold and Potter closed the door behind them, he couldn't believe what was laid out before him. He blinked and looked again, but yes, the décor was still candy striped and the place smelled like bacon, presumably from the breakfast that morning.

"This is where I spent ten of my first eleven years," Potter said and walked slowly down the narrow hallway and pointed at a door. "This is where I slept."

He stepped past the tiny door and walked into another room which was a kitchen and a dining area. "This is the dining room."

Draco was still staring at the tiny door that held Potter's bedroom. He reached out a tentative hand and opened the door.

It was a cupboard. A dark, damp smelling, cobwebby, poky cupboard. Draco gulped. "Are you serious?" He looked up and Potter was standing in the doorway watching him with a blank face. "You slept here?"

Potter stared unblinkingly back at him. "Why would I lie to you?"

Draco's thought process tipped on a tangent, instead of following the incredulity it had been tripping towards at the thought that Potter had been made to sleep in a cupboard, it sped off along a different path, one where Potter _had_ been lying to him.

"I don't know," he replied, closing the cupboard door and calming latching his eyes onto Potter's. "You lied to me about Blaise."

"I-"

"I had to hear it from him last night. How do you think that made me feel, knowing that you'd lied to me?"

"I didn't lie! Not telling you is not lying and- Um, how _did_ it make you feel?"

Draco ignored him and said, "Is everything you say a lie, _Potter_?" He nodded his head towards the door, determined to deflect the sick feeling in his stomach as images of Potter and Blaise showed themselves to him again. "You really expect me to believe that you slept in there?"

"I wasn't lying!"

"Puh-lease," Draco drawled, pushing past Potter and through another door of what seemed to be a sitting room. There was a television in the corner, almost invisible amongst all the gaudy ornaments and frills. The place was an exercise in bad taste. "As if I believe that!" The screaming voice in his head that hollered that it _did_ believe Potter and Draco was just being a jealous idiot went ignored.

He pushed past Potter and headed back to the hallway and up the stairs. He flung open three bedroom doors, the third a room that was sparsely furnished and shabbier than the others.

"You only have the one cousin, so obviously this is your room."

"I was only moved into here _after_ I started Hogwarts. My uncle is terrified of Dumbledore."

Draco snorted and stepped into the room. Merlin, this place was depressing. He could almost pity Potter. He walked to the window and stared out at the neat garden below.

"Why are you being like this?" Potter whispered from behind him. "I thought we had got past this."

"Got past what? The fact that you are an attention seeking liar?"

Potter gasped and stepped backwards, the back of his knees hitting the bed. "You wanker," he said, reaching out the wardrobe to steady himself. "You utter tosser!" His voice rose and he stepped forwards, coming to stand toe to toe with Draco, his eyes flashing.

Draco's breath caught in his throat at Potter's nearness that had nothing to do with his anger and everything to do with the way his heart pounded noisily in his chest and the hand around his heart constricted. He began to feel nauseous again. He swayed closer, Potter's eyes widening as their heads gravitated together.

Downstairs a door slammed and thunderous footsteps tackled the stairs. A female voice called from below, "Dudley, don't run!"

Shit, the Muggles were home.

**::**

When they finally made it back to Hogwarts after huddling together, sitting on the edge of Harry's bed for over two hours before they could make their escape, all of Draco's fury had died.

They'd been silent for half an hour as the Muggles thundered around the house, the sounds of a television blared up through the floor and once the noise calmed down Harry said, "We'd better wait until they've eaten and settled down in front of the telly for the night."

More silence had followed and Draco had whispered, "Did you really sleep in the cupboard under the stairs?"

Harry had nodded and Draco's hand had found his and threaded their fingers together. They had stayed there, hands entwined, until Harry finally said, "I think it's safe."

They had managed to escape undetected, tiptoeing down the stairs and carefully opening the front door. Draco had had to make nice with Mrs Figg before they Flooed back to school and when they came to part company once they were back at the castle, Harry had waited until they were alone in the corridor, before saying, "I told Blaise last night that nothing was ever going to happen with he and I."

Draco was left staring after him as he walked away. He walked slowly back to the Slytherin dorms, his mind whirring and beating himself up for being so pathetic. He was so gone for Harry Potter it was a joke. He couldn't even stay angry at him.

Goyle jumped him when he stepped inside the common room. "You'd better be ready soon, Draco," he said. "I have word that the Dark Lord is becoming impatient."

"He's eating out of my hand," Draco answered, pushing past Goyle, his mind on the solitude of his bed. It was still early and if he was lucky he would have the dorm to himself. He showered, yanked on some clean pyjama bottoms and spelled his bed curtains shut.

The thought of Harry being forced to sleep in a cupboard made him sick. The thought of feeding him to the Dark Lord magnified that a hundred-fold.

He had some serious thinking to do. It was going to be a long night.

**:o:o:o:**

"I don't think I have ever seen so many Muggles all at once," Malfoy whined when they'd paid their way into Alton Towers theme park, having arrived via a Floo connection in the nearby village. Harry elbowed him in the side with a grin; he was inclined to agree – yes he'd been brought up among Muggles but he'd hardly been taken out and shown off. This place was packed.

It was the theme park's Christmas 'fayre' week and it was holding a firework spectacular every night for over seven days, and of course the park was going to be more popular than usual, especially as it was closed throughout the winter and only opened between November and March for this one week. This was a Muggle experience though, if the Muggles had to queue to get on rides then so did Malfoy and Harry.

This was their last Muggle adventure. The last few weeks had flown by and Harry had enjoyed every minute of his time with Malfoy, even when he was being a whiny brat.

"Stop being such a whingebag and let's get started. What do you want to go on first?" Harry opened up the leaflet park guide that they'd been given when they arrived and held it aloft for them both to peruse.

"Here!" Malfoy pointed at the map. "'Grand Canyon Rapids'; let's do that first."

Harry was happy to go along with any suggestions, hoping that it wasn't completely obvious that he was as new to this kind of thing as Malfoy was, although Malfoy most likely had an inkling now – he had seen Harry's childhood home after all. The Dursleys, he knew, had brought Dudley and one of his friends here more than once, leaving Harry at home alone with his chores or in the care of Mrs Figg.

The queue was long but fast moving, and Malfoy huddled into his Muggle style winter coat and gloves with a dramatic shudder. The day was dull and overcast, but the weather charm they had cast before leaving had shown no signs of rain so Harry was hopeful that the chill in the air would be the worst they would encounter.

Malfoy was staring at the people in the queue with blatant curiosity, causing Harry to elbow him again and hiss under his breath, "If you keep in staring like that someone's going to say something." His lips touched Malfoy's ear as he leant into him, and he felt him tremble beside him and instinctively Harry knew that it wasn't from the cold.

Suddenly they were not in a queue for theme park ride but alone, and all Harry would have to do was flick his tongue out and taste the pale pink shell of Malfoy's ear and with one hand pull him closer so that their bodies were aligned.

"Oi, mate, are you getting on or what?" Harry jerked back to the present, blinking owlishly before realising that they were in fact at the front of the queue and that there was a round boat in front awaiting his and Malfoy's embarkation. He shot Malfoy a small smile, still dizzy from the desire to snuggle into him, and climbed on board, grabbing hold of the high back of one of the seats to steady himself. There were six seats inside and a circular handle in the middle. Harry sat himself in the far side of the boat and Draco sat beside him. The other four seats were taken up by a family with two young children.

Once the boat was full, the attendant cast it away and immediately the boat shot off, along the manmade rapids, spinning as it moved, bumping against the wooden walls. Water splashed over the edge, splashing them, and Harry was waiting for Malfoy to complain. He was surprised and aroused by the sight of Malfoy's blond head tipping back as they whooshed along the river, his face alight with laughter. His long pale throat was exposed for Harry's perusal. Oh Merlin, Godric and all that was decent – Harry felt his cock harden; in a boat, with children present.

Malfoy was bloody beautiful and Harry wanted him. He closed his eyes to block out the vision. They'd been spending time together for three months now and for most of that time Harry had been fighting this attraction. Their escapade at the Dursleys had brought them closer together than before, despite their initial arguing, and Harry could still feel how Malfoy's hand had felt threaded through his.

Nothing had happened since, other than spending nearly all of their spare time together; time that Harry wasn't spending with Ron and Hermione or Slughorn. Blaise wasn't talking to him and Harry didn't really blame him; he should never have let him believe that something might happen between them; especially not once he'd admitted to himself that it was Malfoy he wanted.

It was bizarre to think that only weeks ago he and Malfoy had been mortal enemies thrown together against their will and now, despite repeatedly telling himself this was a bad idea, Harry was completely smitten with him – no – more than that, so much more. How that that happened?

He'd seen that Malfoy was human underneath all the snark and, so help him, he liked what he'd found.

Malfoy was all he could think about, all he wanted to think about and it scared the shit out of him. He'd tried so hard for it to be Blaise he fell for, but as it always had, when it came down to it, Malfoy was the one who made his heart beat fast and his gut churn. Once upon a time that had been caused by his hatred for him, but now the coin had flipped and everything had changed.

He'd gone and done the one thing he'd told himself he could never do, and fallen for the one he couldn't have. Even if they weren't on opposite sides of a war, Harry didn't even know for sure if Malfoy liked blokes. How had that never come up?

"…Potter?"

Harry opened his eyes and met the silver grey of the boy he was enamoured with. "Um-?" he scratched out.

"I _said_… Scared, Potter?" Malfoy's eyes twinkled with amusement as he repeated the words he had once taunted Harry with years before.

"You wish, Malfoy," Harry replied. As he spoke, the raft hit the side and Harry was doused in covering of icy cold water. Malfoy's mirth was instantaneous. Harry brushed his damp hair out of his eyes and said, "You git." He then promptly burst out laughing himself.

**::**

It was a long day. They went on as many rides as they could cram in, stopping only for loo breaks and a slice of greasy pizza each when their stomachs started to protest.

Harry couldn't remember a time he'd had so much fun. Fun. With Draco Malfoy. How could those two even be correlated?

The worst and the best moment for Harry was the 'Rocket' ride. It required one of them to sit between the other's legs in a two man car. Draco had immediately said, "There's no way I'm sitting between _your_ legs, Potter."

Harry had ended up sitting between Malfoy's splayed long legs, leaning back against him as the car made its ascent, his back pressed against his chest. He spent the whole ride willing away his erection.

By the time the evening arrived and it was time for the fireworks Harry was completely on edge. His instincts were in direct combat with one another, simultaneously screaming out for him to take Malfoy's hand in his, whilst also shouting out that he should stay away. The fireworks, whilst very impressive, were adding to the pounding in his head.

"Why the long face, Potter? Missing me already?" Malfoy taunted as they headed away from the park towards the Floo connection at the end of the day.

Harry couldn't answer, not when the answer was an irrevocable 'yes'. When this had happened Harry couldn't specify, but when he wasn't with Malfoy he_missed_ him. It was a constant ache that sat beneath his heart, digging away, burrowing itself into him until it was now part of him.

He loved Draco Malfoy. Was – in – love – with.

"Potter?" Draco's gloved hand closed over Harry's wrist and pulled him to a halt. Around them Muggles flowed past, presumably on their way to their own transport home. Harry stared at his feet, the overwhelming urge to scream bubbling in his gut. What was he going to do? "Harry, what's the matter?"

Harry raised his head, and something in his eyes must've given him away because the annoyed glint in Malfoy's eyes dropped away and in that moment Harry was certain he saw his own affections returned. They stood, people swarming past them on every side, mesmerised only by each other. Time seemed to stand still and it was just them, their eyes magnetised, pulling them in…

Malfoy came to senses first, stepping back and saying, "Come on, Potter, we have to get home." He turned and followed the direction of the pedestrian traffic, the expectation that Harry would follow clear. Rejection pulsed through Harry. They had been about to kiss and Malfoy had pulled away. He had wanted that kiss more than anything in his sixteen years to date, and he had wanted a lot of things in his time. Always wanting and never receiving. Harry Potter never got what he wanted. Even his own family rejected him.

Malfoy's retreating form got smaller and smaller as he walked away and Harry couldn't move. He didn't want to face him. Of _course_ Malfoy didn't want him like that. Harry had imagined that as being a near kiss, it was just – _nothing_. Like Harry was nothing.

Before he had chance to change his mind he turned around, running against the crowd, running anywhere but in the direction he was supposed to be heading in. The weight of his world pressed oppressively down upon him. Harry Potter the boy who lived, the boy who was going to defeat Voldemort. The boy who would never have a normal life; not whilst he carried those labels and those expectations.

**:o:o:o:**

"What do you mean, you've lost Potter?" Professor McGonagall demanded shrilly when Draco finally caved in and Flooed back to school when it became clear Harry wasn't with him any longer. He'd gone to look for him, of course he had, but Harry had vanished.

"One minute he was behind me, the next he was gone," Draco said again, slower, as if it was a difficult concept to understand...

He'd nearly kissed Harry and now Harry was missing. Damn it all to hell. The idea of kissing Draco was obviously abhorrent to him, because really, what else could have sent him running like that?

Assuming he _had_ run. What if he had been taken?

Fear, like ice, trickled through Draco's blood. What if that was the case? Death Eaters could have taken him; Draco was hardly in the loop. Right now, Harry could be on his knees in front of the Dark Lord, his life only seconds from being over.

The grief that speared him at that thought was not for himself or for his mother. It was for Harry. A world without Harry in it was not acceptable. Draco's head began to spin and everything turned black.

**::**

Draco felt as though he was walking through treacle in the fog. As his eyes fluttered open he was acutely aware of a pounding in his temples. He could hear voices close by, but where was he? This wasn't his dorm and this certainly wasn't his own bed.

He groaned and stretched and through his half open eyelids he saw a shape appear beside him.

"Mr Malfoy, glad to have you back with us. You hit your head when you fainted," Madame Pomfrey said, a cold hand pressing against his forehead. "How do you feel?"

"Harry-" he croaked, everything flooding back to him. "Is he back?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr Malfoy," she replied. "The headmaster will be here in a moment to talk to you about that."

Draco closed his eyes against the light and tried not to panic. Where was Harry? How long had he been unconscious for? Harry, Harry, Harry. Salazar- Harry was _missing_.

He heard a door opening and assumed it was the headmaster arriving to question him, but the raised voices that followed disproved that, and struggling to shuffle himself into a sitting position he opened his eyes a crack.

McGonagall and Snape were arguing, Snape's hand pressed against the door, blocking entry and exit. McGonagall was shaking her head, and Draco strained to hear, catching a few words, "…right mind put those two together?"

Did they think _he_ had done something to Harry?

If they did think that then they wouldn't be far from the mark would they? Draco was supposed to hand Harry over to the Dark Lord after all. This whole friendship was based on a lie, a dark, evil, unforgiveable lie.

He couldn't do it, he'd long since realised that for himself. Hand Harry over to the Dark Lord for him to do with whatever he would? Never. There had to be another way and he'd done all he could. He hadn't been able to hide behind Pansy's favourite excuses for his actions – _Potter can take care of himself, Potter always comes out on top_. What if Draco went through with his mission and Harry didn't win against the Dark Lord? His blood would be on Draco's hands.

He couldn't recall the moment when things had changed and he'd started to see him as Harry instead of Potter, or when those feelings of attraction and lust he'd felt for him had become something else. He'd never felt like this before; only sixteen years old but he was no innocent – none of his ex's had touched his heart. He'd never wanted to hold their hand or trace his thumb over the path of their collar bone or- With others it had been sex, pure and simple. With Harry he wanted it all and he didn't even know if Harry liked him, not for certain. The way Harry looked at him could have him believing that yes, Harry liked him, but what if that was all in his head?

Family versus this all-consuming desire… Draco loved his mother, reverently, but he was _in love_ with Harry Potter.

Harry Potter who was missing. One lone fat tear escaped and trailed its way down Draco's cheek, finding the corner of his mouth where he instinctively licked it away. This was so fucked up.

Dumbledore appeared moments later with a red robed Auror, and Draco found himself imbibing Veritaserum and explaining the events of the evening to them both, thinking that if this were a different circumstance he might be amused by the way both Dumbledore and the Auror's left eyebrows rose into their hairlines when Draco was compelled to tell them that he had thought they might kiss.

Thankfully they did not deviate from the evening's events, thus Draco did not implicate himself in front of an Auror. "Where do you think he is, Sir?" Draco asked meaningfully when they had finished questioning him. His gut was churning with worry and Draco gnawed his lips nervously.

"There is no reason to believe Harry is in any danger," Dumbledore said kindly, patting Draco's hand. "It sounds to me as though he is reacting to something that happened between the two of you, wouldn't you say, Jenkins?"

Jenkins, was staring at Draco with an expression on his face that implied there was a bad smell in the room. His eyes were loaded with suspicion, but with Draco's agreement to take the Veritaserum he had nothing on him. "It certainly sounds that way, Sir," Jenkins replied, his brown eyes still boring a hole in Draco. "We have a team at the scene now; if he's wandered off, they'll find him."

"Thank you, Jenkins," Dumbledore said. "Mr Malfoy needs his rest now so if you wouldn't mind?"

Jenkin's gaze finally left Draco. "Of course, Sir. Please, let us know if Potter turns up." He turned and walked towards the door where Snape was still in position.

"Is it normal to call the Aurors for something like this?"

"It is when it's Harry Potter."

Yes, Harry Potter. The new centre of Draco's universe.

"Professor, I need to talk to you in private," Draco said in barely a whisper. His eyes flicked to Snape; the man knew of his mission he was sure, but he was a Death Eater after all. "Just the two of us."

Dumbledore smiled. "Of course, my boy, of course."

**::**

An hour later Draco sat in front of Dumbledore. "What if he knew I wasn't going to go through with it? What if he's taken Harry some other way? My mother-"

His voice cracked and he gratefully gulped at the tea that Dumbledore had had delivered for him upon his arrival.

"I don't think that is the case. The…intelligence does not lean towards that. I think Harry has gone off of his own free will and will return when he has sorted out whatever it is that is bothering him."

Draco stared down into his tea and thought back to the conversation he had had with the headmaster a few weeks earlier after his visit to Little Whinging with Harry. He'd been so angry that day, so jealous, that he'd nearly blown it, and that realisation had sent him reeling. If he couldn't face losing Harry to Blaise, how would he cope losing him forever to the Dark Lord?

The following day he'd gone to Dumbledore.

Draco had spilled it all to the headmaster and asked for his protection for himself and his mother. "I don't think I would have done it," he'd said hurriedly, in his own defence. "I thought I was protecting my Mother, I thought I could do it, but I can't, Sir. I'm not a killer, and if I do what he asks I might as well be."

His tears had fallen freely then.

"Draco, you needn't be afraid. I'm pleased you came to me with this. The Order will do what they can for your mother. We have people who can help."

"I have the mark," Draco had blurted, shoving his sleeve up and thrusting his arm out for inspection. "They made me take it. They made me promise to deliver Harry-"

"You care for him," Dumbledore had stated, his unfathomable eyes pinning Draco to his seat. "You care for him more than you care for yourself."

Draco had closed his eyes. He hadn't been ready to admit anything like that to anyone other than himself. He'd shaken his head, signifying his refusal to answer. Let the headmaster make of that what he wanted.

"You've done the right thing, Draco. You are under the protection of the Order of the Phoenix from now onwards."

Dumbledore had taken his memories of his being given the Dark Mark and the instructions he was given for his mission for the Pensieve. At least no one could say that Draco had been a willing recipient.

Draco hoped he was right, because if he wasn't, Draco had just signed his mother's death warrant.

"Please don't tell Harry," he found himself saying then.

"He won't hear it from me," Dumbledore said. "But you must tell him, Draco. A friendship cannot be built on lies and you risk losing him if he finds out before_you_ tell him."

**::**

What if Harry had somehow found out about Draco's mission? He'd been meaning to tell him, he really had, but they had been growing so close, and Draco was nervous to lose that. After their visit to Little Whinging, after he'd made his decision on what he needed to do and had done it, Draco had been able to relax – other than his worries over his mother and what was going to happen when the order came through that he had to complete his mission – and he and Harry had started to spend more time together, almost all their free time…

If anything had happened to Harry now, Draco would never forgive himself.

**:o:o:o:**

Malfoy had been so concerned with looking for him that he hadn't noticed Harry slip past him and into the Floo. He'd almost scared the living daylights out of Mrs Figg when he'd fallen out of her fireplace onto his arse in the middle of her living room.

He needed to see Seth. He needed someone he trusted who had no agenda other than to be Harry's friend; someone who knew nothing about who he really was, at least not in terms of his fame, but as the boy from next door.

Seth, in his pyjamas, had the house to himself as his housemates were all out to parties. He'd held the door open for Harry to enter, letting Harry bury himself in his welcoming arms and seek the comfort he found he so badly needed.

"Harry- I thought I might never see you again, what's the matter?"

When Malfoy had asked him the same question earlier that evening it had precluded an almost kiss followed by a rejection. Harry shook his head. "I just needed to get away for a while."

He allowed Seth to lead him upstairs to his bedroom where they sat on the edge of the bed and Harry let himself be pulled backwards. Seth pulled away, took off Harry's shoes, and covered him in the duvet before sliding in beside him. He lay on his side beside Harry, one hand tracing the fine stubble on his jaw. He leant up to kiss the spot and Harry flinched back.

"Harry-?"

"I'm not here for that," Harry said sadly. "There's someone…"

Seth retreated, flopping onto his back next to him. "You've met someone else?" Harry felt him shrug. "Have you fallen out or something; is that why you're here?"

"Something," Harry said. "I'm sorry – I didn't think how it would seem to you if I came here. I just needed…"

Seth took his hand. "It's fine, Harry, really. I'm glad you still think of me as a friend." Harry could hear the sincerity coupled with the disappointment.

Harry fell asleep eventually, after they talked for a while, Seth gently snoring beside him, wishing with all his heart that he could turn back time and not feel this awful pain in his chest where these feelings were manifesting.

**::**

Seth made him breakfast the next morning. Harry knew he should get back to Hogwarts, it was Friday morning, people would notice he had gone. Yet still he lingered, reluctant to leave. Who would have ever thought there would ever be a reason he'd want to stay longer than necessary in Little Whinging?

"So, what's his name then, this bloke you've met?" Seth sipped his coffee as Harry buttered a bagel.

"It's nothing, Seth. He doesn't feel the same way."

"And his name?"

"Draco."

There, he'd finally admitted it out loud to someone who wasn't his subconscious or Hermione.

"Won't Draco be wondering where you are?"

"I told you, he doesn't care about me like that. I'm just someone to go flying with," Harry replied, but he got to his feet anyway. "You're right though, I should be getting back." He took one more sip of his coffee and backed towards the door.

Seth followed, pulling Harry into a hug and kissing him smack on the lips. Harry felt nothing other than affection as he let Seth deepen the kiss, a test, if you will. Nothing at all. He stepped away. "Thank you, Seth."

When he arrived back at Mrs Figg's he was greeted by two Aurors, one he didn't know, the other Kingsley Shacklebolt. Uh-oh, he was in more trouble than he'd realised.

**::**

He didn't see Draco for two days after his return to the school with a flea in his ear about how it was irresponsible of him to take it upon himself to run away like that, how he'd worried everyone. He also earned himself two detentions to be spent with Professor Snape of all people. Still, it had been worth it. That short period of time away from Hogwarts…away from _Malfoy_. Seeing Seth had also proved that it wasn't just Blaise who didn't do it for him, not anymore.

Draco Malfoy was the only one he wanted and he wasn't interested in Harry, he had made that perfectly clear. That was for the best though; a relationship with him would only end in disaster.

That knowledge did not make Harry feel any better.

Malfoy was avoiding him anyway. Harry felt him staring at him from across the Great Hall and he'd meet his eyes only for Malfoy to turn away again, his face paler than ever. Over the last couple of months Harry had become quite adept at reading Malfoy's expressions, but this time he drew a blank.

He looked away and turned to Hermione. "Please tell me you're still going to Slughorn's party tonight, I don't think I can face it without you."

"Only if you're still going to be my date, Harry, because McLaggen has been all over me trying to persuade me to be his."

"I don't see a queue of people wanting to go with me, so you're safe," Harry said, his eyes flicking to Draco again only to find he'd left the room.

"Well, I thought – Malfoy?"

Harry sighed. "He doesn't like me like that."

"What makes you say that? Look how he reacted when he found out about you and Blaise!" Harry had spent a full hour over analysing Draco's reaction to his relationship with Blaise whilst Hermione had patiently listened.

"He just likes to be centre of attention, that's all." He glanced back to the Slytherin table where Blaise was still seated talking to Pansy Parkinson. "How is he – Blaise I mean – he's not spoken to me since-"

"He's okay. His pride is just hurt that's all."

Blaise looked up then, meeting Harry's worried gaze and to Harry's relief, offered him a tentative smile. Harry returned it. He missed his friend.

**::**

He had a chance to talk to Blaise that night at the party, in the corner as he tried to blend in to the wall. "I'm sorry," Blaise said, coming up beside him and startling Harry into dropping the vol-au-vent he'd been cautiously contemplating for the best part of five minutes. Neither boy noticed. "I should never have – you know – I should have realised you didn't feel the same, that it was Draco."

"I-"

"He's always been a little crazy over you, you know, whether he cares to admit it or not."

"You're wrong you know," Harry defended, feeling suddenly dejected and wanting nothing more than to go back to his room and burrow under the covers. "Besides, it'd be a disaster."

Blaise stared down his nose at Harry. "You really think that? The two of you spark each other just by being in the same room; I knew it and I tried to ignore it because of how _I_ felt about you." Harry felt himself flush. Blaise continued, "He hasn't spoken to me since he found out about us, you know, I mean – he was angry with me and he let me know it, but after that night – not a word."

"He stubborn," Harry said. Malfoy was as stubborn as he was.

"He's jealous."

**::**

If Harry had realised that all it would take to get Professor Slughorn to give up his secret was to pickle him with firewhiskey he would have tried it sooner. By the end of the party, as Harry lingered in the guise of helping him tidy up, Harry carefully asked him whether he'd taught Tom Riddle as Dumbledore had advised him to do when they last spoke after he had ascertained that Harry was probably in Slughorn's confidence now.

"You know, don't you?" Slughorn slurred, slumping into an oversized armchair in near the fire. "Damned Dumbledore."

"Know what, Sir?" Harry didn't have a clue.

"About the Horcruxes."

"Ah, yes," bluffed Harry. "Dumbledore told me his theory but I would love to hear it from you first hand."

Slughorn mumbled, "How the hell did he know?" and Harry waited patiently until he said, "Please don't think badly of me when I tell you."

**::**

Harry went to Dumbledore the following day and let the old man view a Pensieve memory of his conversation with Slughorn.

"It is as I suspected," Dumbledore stated when he'd seen it. "Daft old goat was too proud to admit he'd made a mistake."

"So Voldemort has split his soul, and that's how he didn't die when- When he killed my parents?"

"I believe so."

"Then we have to find them and destroy them!"

"Harry, my boy, take a seat if you will, we have much to discuss."

**::**

When Harry left Dumbledore's office it was late. He ignored his rumbling stomach and went back to the dorm to grab his cloak and the map.

He had to find out if there was any truth to Blaise's words. _Did_ Draco have feelings for him? Please let it be so. _Please._

**:o:o:o:**


	6. Chapter 6

**:o:o:o:**

Draco couldn't sleep again. He was so scared. Everything had happened at once. Goyle had cornered him and given him a crudely wrapped gift saying, "Make sure Potter gets this and opens it on Christmas day." At least he'd had the decency to look apologetic as he said, "I'm to tell you that if you fail, you can kiss your mother goodbye."

As soon as Goyle had gone, Draco opened the package to find a large conch shell. Presumably it was a Port Key, either keyed to send whoever touched it somewhere on Christmas Day, or keyed to send Harry somewhere when he touched it.

Draco threw it, still hanging out of it's wrapping onto his bedside table and watched miserably as it slid over the surface and fell down the side. Good. The damned thing wasn't going anywhere near Harry, he knew that for certain – not even for his mother - but it did have to go to Dumbledore; he had promised him that if something like this was given to him that he would hand it over – and he intended to do so in the morning. Dumbledore had told him that Snape, who Draco now knew was a double agent, was going to get his mother out over Christmas, but now it had to be before Christmas day. Draco had been hoping that the earlier threat of the Dark Lord wanting this done by Christmas had been a bluff.

Apparently, the Dark Lord never bluffed.

Dumbledore, Draco now knew, had known about his mission all along through Snape, and had been hoping Draco would come to him for help. He'd told Draco that the plea had had to come from Draco; that he had had to make the right decision for himself.

Draco knew now there had been no other choice, but his mother – what if he'd signed her death warrant?

When there was a knock on his door Draco cast a Tempus. It wasn't yet eleven o'clock, but it was late for visitors. His dorm mates had already left for Christmas, the train didn't go until tomorrow but it was as it was the weekend anyway, often parents and family came to escort their children home by other means.

Pansy had hugged him tight and told him to do what felt right. He hadn't told her about his confession to Dumbledore; he trusted her, she was loyal, but he did not trust her family and what she didn't know couldn't harm her.

He stared blankly at the door, not in the mood for conversing with anyone. "Draco?" The voice was a worried hiss. _Harry_.

Draco stood and hauled the door open to find that there was no one there. "Hello?" he called, his heart skipping a beat when Harry appeared from nowhere, his head floating without a body to support it. "What-?"

"Can I come in?" Harry's head asked and stunned, Draco stepped back. By the time he turned his head to follow his progress the whole of Harry had appeared, tucking the invisibility cloak under his arm. He shrugged sheepishly and said, "Sorry if I scared you, but there's no way I'm walking through the Slytherin dungeon without this cloak!"

They stared at one another awkwardly. Harry was so deliciously rumpled, his hair askew – which was normal – his Muggle t-shirt was creased and there were dark circles under his eyes. To Draco though, he was perfect.

None of that distracted from the fact that Draco had to tell him about his mission and Harry's role in it. He wanted to touch Harry, to feel what it was like to taste his lips, to hold him in his arms, but he feared once Harry knew what he had been up to all these months he would reject him – if he was even interested in him to start with; and could Draco blame him when he did? Their whole friendship was built on a deception.

Still, it couldn't hurt to have a little longer pretending that they really were just friends, real friends, who seemed to be on the cusp of something more. Just for a few minutes. Harry had avoided him – alright, Draco had been avoiding him as well – for the last couple of days. Draco's curiosity needed to know what Harry wanted with him now.

"Where did you go that night?" he asked. He'd heard that Harry had been found, that he had gone to the town he'd grown up in for some reason and that the Aurors had found him the following day. His first emotion had been relief that he was safe, swiftly followed by anger that Harry had just left him high and dry, left him to face Aurors and questioning under Veritaserum.

Harry averted his eyes. "I went to see my- The Muggle friend who I've mentioned, the one who took me shopping over the summer. I needed to get away."

Away from him. They'd had the best day that Draco had ever had – laughing and joking together, teasing one another, eating sugary Muggle sweets laughing at the horrendous photographs that had been waiting for them as they had come off some of the rides. Draco had almost kissed Harry, only changing his mind at the last minute as he'd seen the fear in Harry's eyes. Had that been why Harry had gone?

"You dropped me right in it," Draco said, and then, "This 'friend', you were- he was your-?" He couldn't say it.

Harry understood and nodded. Draco had to wrap his arms around his middle to stop himself from keeling over at the pain of that, pure jealousy. Harry had left their perfect day to run into the arms of some other man. This was like Blaise again, only amplified a hundred times. Finding out Harry had been seeing Blaise had been the catalyst to admitting he really did have feelings for Harry. This was something else.

"His name's Seth. We had a 'thing' over the summer."

"Do you still-?" He hadn't known there could be a feeling like this. He needed to know, but he dreaded the answer.

"Would it matter to you if we were still an item?" Intense green eyes searched his and Draco swayed closer. All thoughts of confessing about his deal with the Dark Lord had been shoved to one side. He had to have this; even if it was just for this night, he had to tell Harry how he felt.

"It matters," he croaked. "Merlin, Harry, it _matters_. Tell me the truth, please, I – I need it."

Harry inched closer. "I was confused; I needed to be somewhere that you weren't. Seth is the only person I know who doesn't know about magic and about_this_." He jabbed his forefinger to his scar.

That wasn't an answer! "Harry-"

"I slept in his bed, but nothing happened, Draco," Harry licked his lips and his Quidditch calloused fingers reached out to trace Draco's cheekbone. They both swayed into one another. "I didn't want him because there's someone else."

"Who?" whispered Draco, the word lost into the ether as Harry's lips closed over his and his other hand slid around the back of Draco's neck.

Harry's fingers were warm against his cool skin and his neck tingled at the contact. Draco melted into him, his knees going weak as his blood soared from the feeling of finally – finally – having Harry's lips on his. His hands went to Harry's hips, seeking out the smooth skin underneath his t-shirt, the heels of his palm pressing against jutting bone. Harry's breath stuttered as he gasp at Draco's touch and the hand in Draco's hair became the hand on his arse and Harry pulled him in closer.

Draco curled his tongue around Harry's, the sensation it brought rushing instantly south as Harry whimpered. Draco pulled back, his breathing heavy, and looked at Harry. His half-lidded eyes were bright with what Draco hoped was want, because that was how he felt, so much so that he was giddy and shaking from the weight of it. Harry's swollen lips, his mussed up hair, and the way his chest heaved.

Draco had never wanted anyone or anything more than he did in that moment. Harry Potter. Harry smiled and leaned back in, and Draco needed no more encouragement to walk Harry backwards to the bed, kissing him as he went, nipping his lower lip and sliding back in to twist his tongue in Harry's again, his toes curling on the cold wooden floor as the pleasure coursed through him. The backs of Harry's legs hit the side of the bed and Draco pushed him backwards, climbing to straddle him without letting go.

Harry shifted backwards on the bed, his knees coming up behind Draco. Draco let his hands rest on Harry's shoulders, their kiss slow and lazy. Harry smelled of treacle tart and soap, a delicious combination that made Draco's mouth water.

Harry's hands came up and covered Draco's, and instinctively Draco threaded his fingers through his, chasing a trail of kisses along his jawline and into the soft skin of his neck.

"Draco…" Harry whispered hoarsely. "Draco, stop."

Ice washed over Draco and he sat up, his back resting against Harry's thighs, his hands letting go of Harry's. Harry's cheeks were flushed, and Draco felt tears rise in the back of his throat; Harry looked so beautiful. "What's wrong?" he managed to say, forcing his voice to function. He didn't think he could take it if Harry rejected him now, not after everything that he was giving up, not now he'd admitted to himself how he felt about him.

"I just wanted to look at you."

Draco exhaled. "You're not changing your mind?"

"Merlin, no- I just- You're so- Draco, I can't believe we're finally doing this."

Draco leant forward again, taking Harry's hands and raising them above his head. "Well, if you weren't so slow on the uptake, Potter, maybe we'd have got to this as lot sooner."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry laughed. "You could have made a move as well you know!"

Draco sniffed, his eyes on Harry's to be sure he understood when he said, "Malfoy's don't 'make moves'."

"You idiot," Harry huffed and lifted his head, snagging Draco's lips again.

And there they remained, eventually rolling so that they were facing one another, legs entwined, kissing languorously for hours. Draco still wore his pyjama bottoms and a dark mark concealing long sleeved t-shirt and Harry was still fully clothed, albeit messily and shoeless once Draco had touched every part of skin that he could reach without removing Harry's clothes. They were both hard, but neither of them addressed it. Now wasn't the time for that. They had just found one another, Draco had never done this with anyone…kissing for kissing's sake, just wanting to be close to Harry, enjoying the taste of Harry's tongue on his, revelling the drag of his mouth as he explored Draco's neck and collarbone and as he nipped his ears.

Eventually they stilled, lying face to face, staring at one another in the dim light of the room. Draco smoothed Harry's hair back from his face and wondered how he had ever thought that it would be wiry to the touch, it was soft as satin.

"Can I stay?" Harry asked in little more than a whisper. He averted his eyes nervously and Draco's heart stuttered.

He snuggled in closer to Harry for his answer, reaching down to pull the quilt up over them, pulling Harry up with him until his cheek was resting in the crook of Draco's arm. He pulled him closer, running a shaking hand through his hair.

"Mmmm," Harry murmured, snuggling into Draco. "Tired. Need to talk…in the morning."

"Me too and yes, talk in the morning." Draco absently twirled a lock of Harry's hair between his thumb and forefinger. He was tired, but he knew that sleep would elude him. This should be the moment, the happiest one of his life to date; Harry wanted him back, Harry was snuggled in his arms, Harry, Harry, Harry- Harry who didn't know the truth about Draco yet. Harry who would hate him with every atom of his being once Draco confessed. "I love you," he whispered as Harry's breathing deepened. "I'm sorry."

Yes, it should have been the happiest moment of his life, but reality hung over his head like a black shroud, as it had since that vile day when he'd been marked. His mother; what if Snape– and Draco couldn't bear to think of it – what if he failed to get his mother out? What if…

**::**

Draco jerked awake, suddenly cold. He must have dozed off after all. "Harry?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Harry replied from the other side of the room where, when his eyes regained their focus, Draco could see Harry sitting at Blaise's desk, quill in hand. "I woke up and I couldn't get back to sleep. I was just writing a note that I would be back later-"

Draco swallowed. Harry had crease marks on his cheek from Draco's shirt; he was sleep rumpled from sleeping in his arms. The lump in his throat stuck there, refusing to budge, and the desire to cry awakened. He didn't want to lose this – him – when he'd only just found him. He was perfect.

Harry stood, "I guess I don't need to write the note now." He perched on the edge of Draco's bed and took his hand. "I was just going for a walk. It helps me sleep sometimes."

"I'm awake now, why don't you come back to bed?" Draco needed tonight. If he was going to lose Harry tomorrow, he needed something to cling to.

"Ok. I- What's that?" Harry's attention was caught by something to the side of the bed, and in his half-awake status was too slow in his realisation of what Harry was referring to.

Harry crouched to his haunches and reached out a hand just as Draco shouted, "Harry – no!" but it was too late, Harry had picked up the conch shell and with a chilling whooshing sound, he disappeared from the room.

**:o:o:o:**

Harry's picking up the Port Key off Malfoy's bedroom floor was unfortunate, but as it turned out, he'd been sent to Malfoy Manor, where presumably if he'd arrived on day he was supposed to he would have met with an array of Death Eater's and Voldemort himself. As it was, the room he'd been sent to was locked from the outside, Apparition proof and inhabited by one lone, terrified person; Narcissa Malfoy.

Even in his initial confusion it hadn't taken a genius to work out what was going on. He'd held out a hand and said, "I can get us out of here, will you come with me?" Even in his grief at her son's betrayal he wouldn't have left her there to die at Voldemort's hand.

Dumbledore's bracelet Port Key had taken them straight back to the castle where the headmaster and Snape were arguing in Dumbledore's office. "Ah, he is just now," Dumbledore had said calmly when Harry appeared, his hand still holding Narcissa's. "And he's saved us a job as well – hello, Mrs Malfoy."

As soon as it was offered Narcissa Malfoy had immediately accepted the protection of the Order of the Phoenix before asking in a quivering voice to see her son. Harry had the shrunken Marauder's Map in his pocket and had immediately found that Malfoy was in the tower, an unmoving dot.

Just looking at that dot _hurt_.

"I'll take you to him," Harry said. He had a few things he wanted to say to Malfoy, and if his mother heard him then so what? Harry didn't owe him anything.

Malfoy had been using him all along.

The pain inside him was threatening to manifest in the form of angry tears and Harry had to get this over with before he broke down completely. How he was even holding it together now was a miracle.

"Before you go to him," Dumbledore called as he and Narcissa made to leave. "Harry, please remember he didn't go through with it and understand Draco has been a member of the Order for some time now."

Harry stopped and turned. "You let Malfoy be a member, someone who had been plotting to kill me, but you won't let me join?" He shook his head, disbelieving. "Anyone would think you prefer it when I'm kept in the dark."

He turned away again and ran down the stairs. He was going to give Malfoy a piece of his mind and then he was out of here. He was through with being used. No one _really_ had need of Harry did they? Not really. He fought hard not to sink into this, he didn't want to wallow, he wanted to get this over with – he wanted Draco out of his head and Voldemort dead; he wanted to be left alone. He wanted a life that was free from prophecy, free from obligations, free from being used or being offered up for slaughter in exchange for someone else who was more important than he was. The only reason people cared for him at all was because he was supposed to save them.

Everyone always wanted something.

He'd fallen for Draco and it all meant nothing. He choked back a sob. Narcissa Malfoy wasn't going to see him cry. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He increased his pace, determined to reach Draco before she did.

He was never going to trust anyone again, never going to let anyone get close. What for? To be used and cast aside once he'd played his part? Draco had conspired to _feed him to Voldemort_. Was that all he was ever going to be to this world: someone to be manipulated into saving other's skins?

He just wanted it all to go away. He was going to find these damned Horcruxes and finish Voldemort for good, and then, if he survived, he was taking back his life.

**:o:o:o:**

The sky was clear that night; every star was out in for Draco's perusal, twinkling back at him tauntingly. It was beautiful; even through Draco's tear filled eyes as the stars blurred into one huge mass of light. He stood at the edge, his right hand gripping tightly to the wall as he swayed closer.

He should do it. He had nothing to live for anymore. What was the point? Harry was gone; Draco had sent him to his doom. He'd singlehandedly delivered Harry to Voldemort– Harry didn't deserve that. He wasn't expendable. Not to Draco, not anymore.

Harry was _gone_ and it was all Draco's fault.

Draco had gone straight to Snape when Harry had vanished, panicked and afraid. Snape had sat him down in an armchair and instructed him to stay put, but after an hour passed, and then another, Draco couldn't stand it any longer – he'd had to get out of there – he had to do something, but what? He'd found himself in the Astronomy Tower, certain there was no way to save Harry, knowing he couldn't live with himself.

The Dark Lord would likely kill his mother anyway now, Draco had delivered Harry Potter, but not on the pre-arranged date. To the Dark Lord that would be a failure.

He sank to his knees, breathing becoming increasingly difficult as sobs took over his body. He hugged his arms around his middle, rocking himself. Harry, oh Merlin, Harry…Mother. All of this was his fault; _all his fault_. He crawled to the edge and swung his legs over the side, the ground below calling to him. He deserved to die. Everyone was lost because of him.

"Are you going to do it?" Draco's heart leapt into his throat at the interruption.

"H-Harry?" He turned his head to find that he wasn't hearing things, that Harry was indeed standing in the entry, still dressed in the clothes he'd been wearing when he'd come to Draco's dorm hours before, even more rumpled.

"You seem surprised, Malfoy," Harry said coldly. "Didn't expect to see me alive I'll wager. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but as you can see, I've survived again. Sorry about that, it's my stupid Gryffindor luck, saves me every time."

"No, H-Harry, you don't understand," Draco stammered, holding out a hand. "I wasn't going to-"

"Save it for someone who cares," Harry said. "I knew you were up to something. You didn't think I'd become friends with _you_ otherwise did you?"

Draco's head snapped up, his relief at Harry's being alive swallowed up by Harry's cruel words.

Harry held up his left wrist, the bracelet he'd told Draco was a cheap trinket still in place. "You see this? It's a Port Key; I just had to rub it and say a code word and I was back in the castle. I knew I might need an escape plan."

"Harry, I-"

"Don't speak to me. I never want to hear your pathetic voice again; I never want to see your face. I don't even want to _think_ about you, Malfoy. You wanted me dead, well congratulations – as far as you're concerned – I am."

Bile rose in Draco's throat. He deserved this, he deserved every word, but it didn't stop the pain engulfing him at the rejection. Harry turned, pausing at Draco's pleading, "Harry, please-"

"As you so kindly got me such a thoughtful Christmas gift, I have something for you," Harry said, the chill in his voice clear. He turned back to meet Draco's stricken eyes. "You can come out now, I'm done here."

Someone moved into view from behind Harry. Draco gasped. His mother stepped past Harry, careful not to touch him as she passed. "Mother," Draco breathed and ran to embrace her, letting her thin arms pull his close as he inhaled the scent of her hair. "I thought it was all over. Oh thank Merlin." He raised his head to thank Harry, his broken heart hopeful – if Harry could do this for him then maybe he didn't mean his harsh words.

Harry was staring at him, his expression cold and remote as he watched their embrace. Their eyes met and Harry turned to go, his shoulders slumped and his head bent.

"You love him, Draco," his mother whispered in his ear and Draco had to marvel at how she knew that from being in their shared proximity for less than a minute. "Don't let him go. If he walks out of here he may never come back."

"Harry-" he managed to croak, a small kick of hope bouncing inside him as he saw Harry hesitate. "Harry, wait – please."

Harry stalled but didn't turn to face him.

"I'll be in the headmaster's office," Narcissa said and Draco nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from Harry. His mother slipped past and her footsteps could be heard descending the stairs until there was silence.

"Harry, please, look at me," Draco pleaded. "I never meant-"

Harry whirled around then, his wand aloft and pointing at Draco. He stalked towards him and Draco remained frozen to the spot, barely flinching when Harry's wand pressed against his throat.

"Give me one reason not to hex you into next week, Malfoy," Harry said, the shaking of his hand belying the cold tone of his voice. "You never meant to send me to Voldemort's lair, to my doom – is that what you were going to say?"

"No I never meant for you to find out that way. I was going to tell you but I was scared I'd lose you, and the longer I left it the more difficult it became. And when you finally came to me, when we finally kissed, how could I ruin that with the truth?"

"You could have told me sooner!"

"I didn't know how!" Draco reached out his hand and curled his fingers around Harry's wand hand. "I fell in love with you – I could never hurt you."

**:o:o:o:**

Harry had heard Draco whisper those three words when he'd thought Harry was asleep earlier and he couldn't comprehend how could he mean them when none of it was real? But he was saying them again now, and what could he possibly have to gain from that?

Could it be that he _was_ telling him the truth?

He and Draco had never really even been 'together' for Merlin's sake, just one kiss and one time of feeling Draco's arousal against his, of sleeping curled into his warmth. Just a few hours feeling that everything really was going to be alright; it'd felt like he was _home_ and he'd never felt that before.

He hated that home came in the form of Draco Malfoy, however briefly. He was scared that he'd never feel like that again. How could he ever trust anyone again?

Yet Draco was here, telling him that he loved him and it would be so easy to believe him… It wasn't as though he didn't love Draco. But had he fallen head over heels in love with an illusion?

Draco's fingers were wrapped around his wrist, burning…tingling…making him want to touch more, to feel Draco in his arms again and never let go.

But the betrayal- In a lightening movement he'd reversed their position and he had his hand on Draco's left arm, shoving his sleeve up and staring down at the Dark Mark. Draco tried to snatch his arm away. "Harry–"

"Shut up." Harry ran his other hand over Draco's smooth skin, over the mark feeling the raised welts where it had been seared into Draco's flesh. He hadn't believed this of Draco yet here was the evidence. "Merlin." He tore his horrified eyes away from Draco's arm to fix on Draco's face only to find it wet with tears.

"I didn't want it," Draco whispered. "I never did."

His eyes shone with hope – that Harry would believe him? He wanted to. The Draco he thought he knew wouldn't willingly take the Mark.

Abruptly he let go and almost stumbled backwards, the weight of everything landing on his shoulders. Draco had been given a mission, he'd been marked, and he'd been scared – yet still he'd gone to Dumbledore _knowing_ what that would mean for him and his family.

And what about him – was what he'd been doing to Professor Slughorn all that different?

Without the kissing, obviously, but in almost blind faith, Harry had befriended the man to get something _from_ him. He didn't even have the excuse of it being for the love of his mother and it being a task given to him under duress. He hadn't felt comfortable with it, but he'd done it. He'd plied the man with drink and waited for his tongue to loosen.

Was that really all that different to Draco's mission?

The important thing was – Draco hadn't gone through with his mission to hand him over to Voldemort. He'd turned to Dumbledore for help and risked it all for him. Sometimes things weren't black and white. They were grey.

Both of them were just scared sixteen year olds caught in between a war that was not of their making.

In that moment all of his anger faded away and all he could see was Draco standing before him, vulnerable and afraid. His movements were jerky as he reached for him, and for a moment Draco recoiled in fear until he realised what Harry was doing.

They sank into each other, breathing in each other's scent, wanting more but scared to let go of this. It seemed like an age before Harry found his voice to say, "I fell in love with you too."

**:o:o:o:**

"I won't be dissuaded, Sir," Harry said, fidgeting in his chair as he sat opposite Dumbledore, his hand entwined with Draco's. "I can't be here, not when- Not when there are things to be done. I'm not waiting for him to come for me, not anymore."

Last night, what had been left of it, he and Draco had lain in Draco's bed and talked. Harry's doubts about Draco had been swept away. Draco was on his side now. On _their_ side.

"My dear boys, if you do this, you'll be entirely alone. I can put a Fidelius on your residence but for anything else, it'll just be the two of you."

"Sir, with respect, we're doing this with or without your blessing; if we have to wait until we're seventeen then we will, but now that _he_ knows about Draco's defection he's angry, I can feel it, he could strike anytime. I know we're not of age yet, but I also know that you have the authority to take the underage magic restriction off us."

Dumbledore sighed.

"We'll spend Christmas together at Grimmauld Place and we'll start the search in the New Year. You know it makes sense, Sir – I'm the only person who can do this and I'm not doing it without Draco."

Draco watched the old man closely, knowing he was going to say yes. He wasn't that difficult to read when you had grown up with Lucius Malfoy as your father; it was always in the eyes if you looked hard enough.

He gave Harry's hand a squeeze. They had a long road ahead of them. Obviously it was impossible for Draco to return to school; in many eyes he was a traitor to both camps. Besides, Harry needed him. Harry _wanted_ his help with this search.

He couldn't deny that being 'on the run' with Harry didn't hold a certain appeal, but if Harry was to face the Dark Lord – something Draco knew was inevitable – then he was going to do it with all the advantages possible and Draco by his side.

"Very well," Dumbledore finally agreed.

"Thank you, Sir," Harry said calmly and stood, Draco getting to his feet beside him.

"I'll make all the necessary arrangements. Come back here on New Year's Day."

Draco nodded politely at the old man as they left, his hand still gripped tightly in Harry's.

Once they were outside in the corridor Harry yanked him into the nearest alcove and pressed his body flush against Draco's. "In just a few hours we'll be alone at Grimmauld Place."

"Yes, how romantic, us and half of the Order," Draco teased, baring his neck for Harry to nuzzle. He and Harry were expected at Grimmauld that afternoon via Floo. There was no time for anything more than a couple of stolen kisses before they had to collect their luggage and say goodbye to the school indefinitely. "Not to forget Granger, Weasley and my _mother_."

They'd skipped the train that morning and Draco had found himself, still bleary eyed from the lack of sleep, sharing breakfast with Harry and the other two thirds of the Golden Trio. The Invigoration Draught in the pumpkin juice and the large mug of coffee he'd enjoyed enabling him string a coherent sentence together so he could apologise to them both for past transgressions and asking if they could get along for Harry's sake.

It didn't even sting as much as he'd thought it might.

To his credit and Draco's surprise, Weasley had taken one look at Harry's face, another at their joined hands, and offered his for Draco to shake. Granger had threatened to punch him in the nose again if he ever hurt Harry and then offered her hand as well.

Draco wished Pansy had been there; he couldn't decide if she'd be horrified or rapidly taking notes for her Muggle sociology. He was going to miss her.

Draco didn't want more than kisses until they had the time they needed anyway. Harry was worth more than a quick shag in an alcove – at least for their first time!

Harry's expression sobered. "Do you think we'll be okay, Draco? We don't know how long we'll be away for. What if we don't get on? What-"

"Harry, don't make problems where there aren't any. We're young and in love – we're invincible!" He reached up and brushed Harry's fringe off his scar, leaning up to place a chaste kiss against it. "You survived _that_; you can survive a few months alone with me!"

Harry laughed. "You're right. As long as we're together, we'll get through it."

Draco smiled. "Yes we will; we're going to win this war. Together."

**:o: The End :o:**


End file.
